


The Unfinished Collection

by MissWonnykins



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Aged up characters, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Canon Continuation, Gen, Gore, M/M, Sexual Content, Stranger Things AU, Zombie AU, unfinished WIP collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWonnykins/pseuds/MissWonnykins
Summary: A collection of unfinished WIPs, each varying in content and purpose. Just because they're here doesn't mean they won't receive updates, but I figured I'd share them anyway. Tags will be added with each new entry. Included are:- A Canon Divergence story where Ash unknowingly woos Gary by continuously sending him gifts. (Tame)- A Canon Continuation story where Gary rescues Ash from a cringe-worthy 21st birthday. (Mature Content - Sex, drugs, alcohol)- A Zombie Apocalypse Alternate Universe story where Ash sails along the coast in an effort to reach Gary, battling hoards of Shamblers along the way. (Mature Content - Gore)- A Stranger Things inspired story where Ash and Co. deal with a strange creature seemingly from another dimension, set in Delaware in the early 90s. (Mature Content - Gore)





	1. Spoiled

**Author's Note:**

> 'Spoiled' is a Canon Divergence story where Ash unknowingly woos Gary by continuously sending him gifts.
> 
> This story is set sometime during the Kalos region travels. It's extremely tame - meant more-so to be cute than anything else.

_ Based on a prompt I sent in to Stormy: _

 

_ Ash finding or winning evolutionary/mega stones in his travels and sending them to Gary cause he can’t use them. Gary becoming convinced that Ash is sending him expensive gifts to win him over. Both of them meeting and Gary kissing Ash, Ash [being] like wtf. _

 

\---

 

“Y’re somethin’ else, kid!” The older man rubbed the back of his neck with a hearty guffaw, Pokeball in his other hand. “I tell ya, I ain’t had a battle like that in some time! Not a’tall!”

 

Ash laughs with him, proudly. “Well, gee, thanks!”

 

“Yessir. Well, guess I have’ta give ya some kinda RE-ward!”

 

“Oh, uh, that’s not--” The boy waved his hands, grin turning sheepish. Even Pikachu seemed a little nervous about whatever this man might have to ‘reward’ Ash with - its little paws were flailing. “Sir, really, it’s okay-!”

 

But his opponent merely shook his head, digging into the pocket of his khaki shorts while frowning thoughtfully skyward. “In my day, we knew when we was beat and we was grateful for the experience. Ah-ha…! Here ya are!” Ash’s protests cut off in stunned silence as the man held out a shiny, round object to him. He seemed quite pleased with what he had to offer. Exchanging a glance with Pikachu, Ash reached out and gently took what seemed to be a stone from the man’s palm. “That there...ya know what that is, son?”

 

At the seriousness of his tone, Ash shook his head dumbly. “Is...this an evolution stone? I’ve never seen one like it.”

 

“Well, you’re half right, boy!” The old man leaned close, as if he were sharing a secret. “That there’s a Mega Stone. You know what Mega Evolution is?”

 

He did. Ash’d seen it a few times, by then. His eyes lit up at the prospect of having one of his own. The old man laughed at his obvious excitement. “Oh, so ya do, do ya?! Well that there’s a really nice one...I ain’t ever had a use for it, y’see, bein’ that it’s for Aerodactyl, but--”

 

“Aerodactyl?!” Ash parroted, jaw dropping. The stone itself seemed to give away its nature immediately after he’d heard what it did. It had swirls of lavender and dark purple inside...Ash remembered his encounter with an Aerodactyl quite well, and the colors were eerily familiar. Still, there was one problem…

 

“Aren’t those extinct?” He questioned, finally frowning.

 

The old man let out a whoop of laughter, grabbing at his belly. “Y’re darn right! And a good thing, too! I’ve seen the fossils, y’see, I wouldn’t wanna meet THAT Pokemon any day! But that right there is worth a pretty penny, son, you hold on to it and who knows? A trainer like you could meet just about anything!”

 

“I wish you were kidding…” Ash grumbled, staring at the stone and pouting a little. Still, he slipped it into his pocket and managed to put on a semi-decent smile. “Thanks. It’s really cool, even if the Pokemon it’s for doesn’t exist anymore.”

 

“Oh now, I wouldn’t go’a sayin’ THAT.” The old man stopped smiling, rubbing at his chin. “See, I was watchin’ on the ole’ television a few weeks ago...some lab out on some Saida Island managed to go and Revive one’a them Pokemon, didn’t they? Yessir’ee, I’m sure I remember that!” With a shake of his head, he shook Ash’s hand heartily before stepping away. “Ah...well, maybe y’ll get t’ see it y’re self. You take care, boy!”

 

But Ash could only manage an absent-minded wave. Something about the name ‘Saida Island’ sounded familiar, especially considering the topic of reviving fossilized Pokemon…

 

The thought stuck with him even after he ventured away from the practice arena to the Pokemon Center. The trainer put his hand into his pocket, withdrawing the Aerodactylite and gazing into the swirls below its surface. He was so concentrated on the stone that he nearly ran into his female traveling companion, Serena, who gently touched at his wrist.

 

“Hello…? Earth to Ash?”

 

“Wah--!” He jumped, fumbling his prize before clutching it in his fist tightly. “...Whoa...sorry, Serena. I didn’t even see you there.”

 

The blond girl merely smiled, hands behind her back. “You looked pretty out of it,” She commented, then nodded towards the stone in his grasp. “What’s that?”

 

“Oh! Look...I just won a match against this old guy I met outside, and he gave it to me! It’s a Mega-Stone.” He held it up between his thumb and fore-finger, puffing out his chest.

 

Serena gently took the stone from him, wide eyed. Her delicate fingers moved over the surface, turning it this way and that. At last, she handed it back. “I’ve never seen one like that before…what does it go to?”

 

At once, Ash deflated. “...Aerodactyl.” He muttered.

 

“O-oh...well…” His friend gave him a faint and pitying grin. “At least it’s pretty…!”

 

The trainer nodded, sitting at one of the tables by the row of video phones. “It’s not like I could’a used it, anyway.” He reasoned, using one finger to roll the stone gently over the table-top. “I don’t have a Key Stone. Even if I did magically find an Aerodactyl, I wouldn’t be able to make it Mega-Evolve. Ah...but...that guy said he heard somebody Revived one, and I can’t remember why that’s familiar…”

 

Serena sank into a chair across from him, putting her chin into her palm and gazing thoughtfully at the Aerodactylite. “Beats me...I’ve never heard of that. Do you know someone who works with Reviving fossils?”

 

Ash couldn’t immediately recall...but Pikachu chirped, its ears perking up with recognition. “What’s up, Pikachu?” Ash questioned. His Pokemon began to wave its arms before ruffling the fur on its head until it was good and spiky. It then struck a pose with one paw on its hip and the other twirling the Mega Stone on one tiny claw. The posture and attitude was very familiar, and Ash snapped his fingers with a grin growing on his face. “Of course…! Gary!”

 

“Who?”

 

He stood up hastily from his chair, nearly knocking it backwards in his rush to get out of it. “This guy I know! I grew up with him, his grandpa’s Professor Oak from my hometown.” He hurriedly told his friend, heading towards one of the video phone cubicles and digging into his pocket for a coin to use. Pikachu hopped up on the counter under the phone with the stone in its mouth. As Ash settled in the chair, Serena came to stand behind him. “Gary’s a Pokemon researcher now...and he works on Saida Island, so it’s gotta be him!”

 

Serena frowned, saying nothing, and Ash paid her no mind as he slotted in his coin and began to dial out a long number. It would cost him a little extra for a call over such a long distance, but he was practically dancing in his seat. It’d been awhile since he’d spoken to his rival-turned-friend and he HAD been wondering how the other boy was doing. The number was from ages ago, though, and he began to worry after the first couple rings that it was no longer valid…

 

The screen on the video phone lit up at once, and a young woman appeared with the phone between her ear and her shoulder. In her arms was a stack of papers. “H-whoa…” She wobbled, glasses getting knocked further and further askew. “Hello, Saida Labs?”

 

“H-hi...um...I’m sorry, my friend gave me this number.” Ash laughed nervously, suddenly feeling a bit skittish. “Um...is he there? Gary! Gary Oak, sorry. Is...Gary around?”

 

At first, the girl only made a soft ‘uhhhhmmmm’ noise as if she had no idea who Ash was talking about. Then her eyes lit up and she nodded, scrambling to keep the phone near her ear as the action jostled it. “Oh yeah…! He’s right over--hold on a minute.” She let the handset of the phone slide down onto her stack of papers, turning her head. Ash could faintly hear her call out (“Hey, Gary!”) and glanced at Pikachu when he heard a slightly familiar voice answer back (“Yo?”). The girl shouted out that he had a phone call before stepping back. After a few moments, Gary Oak’s face appeared from one side of the video screen. His forked eyebrows raised in surprise before he turned to his colleague and took the receiver off her papers. 

 

“Soooo…” Even though the tone was meant to sound haughty, Ash still found himself smiling as Gary spoke, “To what do I owe the pleasure of the great Ash Ketchum’s contact?”

 

Unable to hold himself any longer, Ash merely waved and chirped out a happy: “Hey Gary!”

 

Gary couldn’t really hold out on looking holier-than-thou after that, and his smirk melted away into a genuine grin. “Hey yourself. I was wondering if you’d lost this number.”

 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been really busy…” Ash explained, cringing. “My mom says the same thing sometimes.”

 

“That surprises me exactly none. So, I get the feeling you’re not just calling for no reason.”

 

Ash nodded, taking the stone from Pikachu and holding it up for Gary to see. “I won this just now,” He explained, watching as Gary leaned in a little closer and squinted, “The guy who gave it to me said it was a Mega Stone for Aerodactyl. So I mean...I wanted to know if that was true, first, and then I wanted to know if you worked on reviving one there on Saida.”

 

The auburn-haired boy hummed thoughtfully, finally pulling a pair of reading glasses out of his coat pocket (Ash would have to ask him about that, sometime) and putting them on. He stopped squinting immediately. “...I’m not sure.” He finally replied, “I’ve never seen an Aerodactylite before, but it DOES look like a genuine Mega Stone...congrats, Ash.” The dark-haired boy once again puffed up proudly at the praise, this time coming from someone he considered fairly strong as a trainer. Gary continued on, sitting back in his chair: “And yes, I worked directly with the Aerodactyl when it was revived...Gramps got to see it, actually.”

 

“No kidding…! Aw...I wish I got to see it.” Ash pouted.

 

Gary snickered, rolling his shoulders. “I mean, it WAS pretty impressive.” He teased. “But you can come see it whenever you’d like. It’s still here on the island. I have to go out and check on it every few days or so, and it’s become pretty friendly.”

 

The trainer’s eyes widened and sparkled. “Really…?! That’s awesome! I gotta come visit one’a these days! But--” He waggled the stone, “Until I can...maybe you can use this? I’m not gonna just run into a wild Aerodactyl soon, I’m pretty sure...but since you work with yours all the time, this’d be super helpful, right?”

 

The auburn-haired boy gaped for a moment or two. “...I...well, yeah, sure. We could trade, if you want.” He said, finally.

 

But Ash shook his head. “No, it’s okay! I’ll just send it to ya!”

 

Both Gary and Serena made similar sounding choked noises. “Are--Are you sure?” Gary questioned, narrowing his eyes, “This isn’t a prank, is it?”

 

“Wah...no, course not. It’s the real deal...well, I think it is, anyway. But I wouldn’t send you something dangerous! Serena’s seen me handle it, she knows it’s safe.” He indicated the girl standing beside him, then grew flustered. “Ahhh…! I haven’t even introduced you guys, I’m sorry! Gary, this is Serena, and Serena, this is one of my oldest friends, Gary Oak.”

 

Both of them gave surprisingly awkward-sounding ‘hi’s to one another and shuffled uncomfortably. “Err...well, thanks, Ash.” The researcher cleared his throat, “I’ve gotta get back to my project, but...really. Thank you. Even if it turns out to be a dud, that’s still pretty thoughtful.”

 

Ash didn’t notice Serena tense up when he laughed and shrugged. “You’re my friend! I don’t mind at all. You should take some pictures of Aerodactyl before and after you get the Mega Stone to work, I really wanna see it!”

 

“Sure. Feel free to call back whenever.” There was a tremendous crash in the background, and Gary jumped with his teeth gritted. There was some yelling off to one side, and he continued to cringe. “...Okay, I REALLY have to go, now. Take care, Ashy-Boy.”

 

“Aww...Bye Gary!” Ash waved back at his friend before the screen went dark. He chuckled to himself as he hung up the receiver, stretching his arms up over his head before folding them behind his thatch of messy hair. “Wonder what he’s doin’ now. Sounds pretty crazy over there, huh?”

 

When Serena didn’t answer, Ash tilted his head back to look up at her. She had a troubled look on her face that only deepened when Ash nudged her. “Hey...what’s up, Serena? You okay?”

 

The blond girl seemed to blush a little, toeing at the floor shyly. “...That’s a really expensive stone, you know.” She finally blurted.

 

“Is it?” Ash questioned, examining it once again.

 

Serena nodded. “It’s...not really something you just give away to  _ anybody _ . It’s considered to be one of the most expensive gifts you can give, at least, in Kalos…”

 

Blinking, Ash looked from her to the stone in his hand. He turned it over in his fingers, thinking silently. Then he shook his head, the smile back on his face. “Well, it’s not like I bought it, y’know? And I’m sure that old guy wouldn’t mind me giving it to a friend if the friend can actually use it.”

 

“Ash, that sort of gift is something you pass down to your kids as an heirloom,” The blond finally snapped, “it’s something you give a family member for their highest achievements, not something you give a sorta-kinda friend just because you got one and he happens to have the Pokemon it goes to. It--I-It’s something you give a  _ lover _ , like jewelry. I mean, there are exceptions, like professors to their trainers and things like that, but still--!” She stammered to a halt, face significantly redder. “...I don’t think you should give it to that guy.”

 

“But why not…?” Ash asked, looking crest-fallen. “Gary’s one of my best friends. And if he really DID Revive an Aerodactyl, then he DID do something really awesome so...so then maybe this works? I dunno, Serena, that all sounds kinda froo-froo for me…”

 

The girl made a frustrated noise, storming away. “Fine! Do whatever you want, Ash! Just don’t blame me when people get the wrong idea!”

 

Ash watched her leave, confused. He turned to Pikachu, rubbing behind its ears, and sighed. “Wonder what’s eating her?”

 

“Pika pika…” The yellow Pokemon murmured, tilting its head so that Ash could switch to scratching it under the chin. It crept up to his shoulder a moment later, tugging on his collar and pointing to the front counter.

 

“You’re right…! I better hurry and get this sent out.” Ash practically jogged to the Nurse Joy standing behind the counter, his grin so wide it could blind someone. “I want him to send those pictures.”

 

If the Nurse gave him a very odd look when he said that or after she saw what he wanted to send, Ash was oblivious to it.

 

\---

 

“We really do have to thank you for getting Team Rocket away from our store. And with minimal damage.”

 

Saying the store had ‘minimal damage’ was like saying Ash had a decent appetite. The windows had been blown clear out and there was still a cloud of smoke hovering around outside. The sprinklers had come on half an hour ago and drenched everything in sight. Cabinets had been knocked over, display tables up-ended. One delicate chandelier had fallen to the floor. And yet the woman standing before Ash in her soaking wet business suit was smiling gratefully down at him as though everything was right in the world.

 

Ash really didn’t understand folks, sometimes.

 

His friends and he shifted from foot to foot, sneakers squeaking with water. “...It’s not a big deal,” The dark-haired boy finally replied. He reached up, pulling off his hat and sputtering when water cascaded out of it. Once he’d put the hat back on with a wet slapping noise, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and addressed the woman again. “Honestly, it’s sorta our fault that they showed up at all...and they wrecked your store.”

 

“Oh nonsense.” The woman laughed, brushing a lock of slate-grey hair behind her ear. “These stones pay for themselves...I’ll close down for a few days, we’ll make out just fine. We’re lucky those thugs didn’t run off with our merchandise; not only are our wares very valuable, but they have very strong effects on our lovely little Pokemon friends.”

 

“I can see that.” Coughed out Clemont, spitting a stream of water out. He leaned over, trying to put a table back up. The velvet cushions and display racks inside had all tumbled over, and so the stones and jewelry inside were all pushed to one side. “We’ve read up a little on Mega Stones, but I see you have Evolution Stones, too.”

 

“Correct, Gym Leader Clemont.” The woman replied, smoothly. There was some commotion behind them; glancing over his shoulder, Ash saw that some of the staff were already getting sheets of plywood and chicken wire to place over the blown out windows. “We deal in our fair share of fine jewelry and precious stones as well, but our bread and butter is catering to those who wish to max out their Pokemon’s full potential through evolution...of either kind.”

 

Pikachu chattered angrily, and the store owner knelt down to pat its head. “Of course, that’s not to say that some Pokemon need to change at all. You did very well on your own, little dear.” This seemed to appease the small Pokemon, who allowed her to pet it. She finally stood back up, addressing Ash and his friends. “Please...I insist that I present all of you with a token of our gratitude.”

 

A young man - also soaked to the bone, and with much less composure as he was shivering quite a bit - stepped forward holding a relatively dry case. At the woman’s gesture, he opened the case and displayed four bright and shining stones. The woman removed a greenish one, holding it up to the light to display the yellow lightning bolt inside. “I’m sure you are all aware of what these are.” She said kindly as the group came closer.

 

“That’s a Thunder Stone…!” Chirped Bonnie, who was allowed to take the stone, “And those are Fire and Water Stones...and that one’s a Dusk Stone, right?”

 

“Shiny Stone.” Clemont corrected, gently lifting the whitish, yellow stone out of the case.

 

“Very good. I love to see the youth with strong amounts of knowledge.” The store owner smiled down at Bonnie, who blushed. “I insist that each of you take one of these Stones. I will of course do what I can to make any future visits comfortable, but please...take these now. I hope they help you on your journey.”

 

The four friends ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed over the Stones, letting them pass from hand to hand. Clemont of course kept the Thunder Stone (no one could foresee anything else, and Pikachu looked offended at the mere sight of it) and planned on returning to his Gym later on so that he could store it there for future use. Bonnie decided she wanted the Water Stone, and agreed that - although it was pretty - it would be better off where her brother’s was to be stored for the time being. Serena took the Shiny Stone, tucking it into her bag...and this left Ash with a Fire Stone.

 

They were all ecstatic about their rewards, chattering on and on about what they might do with them and what they hoped would happen later on - and hopefully soon. It wasn’t until they reached the Pokemon Center and Ash breezed through his Pokedex that he realized something and gave a frustrated moan.

 

“What? What’s the matter?” Questioned Bonnie, alarmed at his sudden shift in mood.

 

And Ash answered her mournfully with: “I don’t have any Pokemon who can use a Fire Stone.”

 

There was silence, and then Clemont reached over to pat Ash’s arm. “Well...that’s fine. None of us are going to use ours soon, anyway.”

 

“I know...I just wanted to give one of my Pokemon back at the lab a little boost to show I was thinkin’ about’em.” The boy rested his face on his fists, pouting out his lips. His friends looked at one another helplessly. 

 

“I...guess you could always sell it.” Serena cautiously suggested.

 

“Or give it to someone.” Added Clemont, absently.

 

Ash immediately slapped his hands to the table. “THAT’S IT!” He practically screamed. The rest of the patrons at the Pokemon Center glared at him, and he sank back down with a swallow. 

 

“What’s it…?”

 

Taking a deep breath, Ash calmed down enough to respond in a softer tone of voice. “I know who I can give this to.” He told them, an excited spark in his eyes. 

 

His friends all smiled at him. “That’s great!” Clemont told him, sliding his glasses up his nose. “Who’re you going to send it to?”

 

“Gary!”

 

Serena suddenly looked as though she had swallowed a very sour Citrus berry, but his other two friends looked confused. Bonnie finally spoke up. “Who’s that?”

 

“He’s a researcher, and he’s a good friend of mine.” Explained the dark-haired boy. He dug into his backpack, withdrawing the Fire Stone. “And I’ll bet he can use one of these at his lab. Gary’s done some pretty neat stuff, so I guess his lab uses a lot of stuff like this.”

 

“But what if they don’t?” Piped up Serena, “You said Gary works with Reviving Fossil Pokemon...that doesn’t have anything to do with evolution.”

 

Ash seemed to consider this, hefting the stone up and down. “...So then he can use it on one of his own Pokemon, or give it to another lab who CAN use it, he’d know better about that stuff than me. Or maybe his grandpa--”

 

The blond girl cut him off sharply. “Ash, look, it’s really nice you want to send this guy ANOTHER precious stone. It’s...very friendly. But don’t you think that’s a bit of a stretch? Why not send it to one of your other friends?”

 

“It’s Ash’s, though! He should be able to send it wherever he wants!” Serena stared in surprise down at Bonnie, who stood with her fists on her hips. 

 

Clemont was quick to reel in his little sister, frowning at her in a way that promised a scolding later. Still, he took her side. “It’s Ash’s choice.” He told Serena with a shrug, “And honestly, the thought process isn’t terrible. If this Gary really does work in a laboratory, he might be able to apply the stone to a project either he or someone else is working on. That sort of material might be a bit harder to base experiments around due to its real-world value.”

 

The blond trainer gaped, mouth working silently for a moment or two before she glared at the table-top. “...I just wish I knew what was so special about this ‘Gary’ kid…”

 

Ash gave her a weird look, shouldering his bag and making to stand. “I dunno what ya mean, Serena. I mean, yeah, he IS kinda special. The guy’s the smartest person I know...well…” He coughed sheepishly, clapping Clemont on the back. “...maybe Clemont and him are tied, but still.” He wandered off towards the counter, talking with a smiling Nurse Joy about sending the stone out via Carrier Unfezant.

 

The bespectacled boy reached over and gently shook Serena by the shoulder, jostling her out of whatever frustrated thoughts she seemed to be having. “You mentioned that this isn’t the first time Ash’s given this other boy a precious stone,” He murmured, “...has he really given him something else?”

 

Looking like she’d put her foot into her mouth by mentioning it at all, Serena huffed and kept her eyes on the table. “...Yes. He won an Aerodactylite off some old man a few days ago and sent it to that Gary kid...I guess because he’s Revived an Aerodactyl.”

 

“Whoa...that’s...very impressive.” The gym leader sat back in his seat, glancing down at Bonnie. The little girl seemed lost, so he hurriedly explained what an Aerodactyl was and what it meant to Revive a Pokemon. “So then,” He suddenly said to Serena, “that was the best person the Aerodactylite could have gone to.”

 

“I...guess.” She admitted in a murmur.

 

“What’s the matter?” Bonnie asked her again.

 

“It’s just…” Hesitating, Serena leaned closer to the other two blonds, “...You know what it means to give someone a gift like that. Ash doesn’t get it. He thinks it’s totally fine to just give away Mega Stones just because he’s sorta-kinda friends with this labrat. I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

 

Both blonds raised their eyebrows and made understanding ‘oh’s. Clemont cleared his throat, blushing, and Bonnie giggled. “I suppose someone could insinuate that Ash...perhaps  _ likes  _ this ‘Gary’ a bit more than a friend.” Clemont admitted.

 

Satisfied, their female friend crossed her arms and peered over her shoulder. Nurse Joy had placed the stone into a box and was wrapping it carefully while Ash nattered on. “...I think the Gary guy’s a bit more aware of the general idea, at least, so maybe when this one comes in he’ll get Ash to stop.”

 

Bonnie decided to add: “What if he doesn’t?”

 

Both of the older children were silent, processing this question and what their answers should be...and what they’d mean. Serena’s eyes grew wide, mouth set in a wobbly line; Clemont blushed a little harder. “W-well,” He stammered, addressing his sister, “I guess he could also be unfamiliar with the gesture’s typical meaning, Bonnie. He doesn’t appear to be from Kalos, at least…”

 

But Bonnie caught on anyway, her eyes sparkling and her mouth curving up into a gleeful smile. “Or he could know exactly what it means and--”

 

“NO.” Both siblings, startled, shot their attention to Serena. The girl had her hands flat on the table, mimicking Ash’s determined pose from before. As opposed to his excitement, however, she only appeared angry. “No. That weirdo’s from Kanto, just like Ash is. He couldn’t possibly know. All he knows is that Ash is sending him expensive gifts because he can...There’s no way he’d let it continue. No good friend would.”

 

“Would you?”

 

The older girl stuttered and sputtered in the face of the younger’s question. She finally slunk away with a meek ‘no’, leaving the gym leader and his sister behind. The remaining two blonds shared knowing looks and matching sighs.

 

“How long d’you think it’ll be before she cracks?” Bonnie asked, putting her elbows on the table.

 

Clemont shook his head. “At this rate?” He replied, taking off his glasses to polish them, “If Ash pulls this again, I’m sure she’ll lose it.”

 

Bonnie nodded in agreement. They were quiet for a few moments before she tilted her head. “...D’you think this Gary guy’s bad news?”

 

“I don’t think so...we don’t know much about him, do we?” Her brother admitted.

 

“Right...if he’s Ash’s friend, we can trust him.” A pause. “...Right, Clemont?”

 

He merely smiled faintly at her. “I’m sure you’re right.”

 

Still, when the girl finally left the table to play with Dedenne, Clemont pulled out his Pokegear and began to type in keywords to search for. If this was shaping up to be some sort of problem, he’d figured he’d might as well have as much information on this researcher character as he could get…

 

\---

 

When Gary Oak picked up the line right away a few days later, he looked as though he was having a rough day. Upon seeing who was calling the lab, he pulled a face and sank down heavily into the chair in front of the video phone. “Yes?”

 

Taken aback by his gruff greeting, Ash cleared his throat and plowed on anyway. “Uh...is this a bad time?”

 

“Yes.” Gary repeated, sounding extremely resigned. A loud bang and a cloud of smoke came from his left, and he rubbed at his temples. “I hate to sound mean, but whatever it is, let’s hurry it up before this migraine I’ve got going turns into something worse.”

 

Pikachu cooed worriedly beside Ash. “Would you feel better if I told you I have something else to send you?” The trainer asked, digging into his pants pocket.

 

Something decidedly odd and unreadable crossed Gary’s face. “...Like what…?” He finally gave in. The wary nature of his tone overrode how tired he had sounded before.

 

Beaming, Ash finally pulled out a familiar-ish Stone. “This is for Blastoise to Mega-Evolve--”

 

“No.”

 

“Wh--...Huh?” Ash slumped, puzzled. “...Whaddya mean ‘no’? I don’t exactly have a Blastoise, Gary, but you’ve had one for a while. It was your Starter Pokemon, wasn’t it?”

 

The auburn-haired boy squirmed. “...Yes…”

 

“So…”

 

“So nothing, Ash, I don’t want it.” Gary snapped, finally looking irritated, “Are you giving me these to suggest I NEED them or something? I don’t train like you do anymore, but that doesn’t mean I need any extra help when it comes to battling.”

 

The hostility made Ash wind up in an old, familiar feeling way. Struggling to control his own frustration, he bit back a growl. “No,” He hissed, patiently, “I’m giving them to you because you’re the only one who could actually use them. Nobody else I know has an Aerodactyl or a Blastoise.”

 

The researcher looked abashed, but only slightly. “Right...okay...I’m sorry. Really. You can hear how well things are going here and I’m--ugh…” Gary sank down in his chair. “...Tired. Very tired. Also, none of that explains why you sent me a Fire Stone out of the blue. I don’t have any Pokemon I can currently use it with.”

 

“So find someone there at your lab-thingie that can use it.” Ash suggested.

 

That gave Gary pause. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, eyes darting away and roving over the ceiling. “...Huh...yeah, all right. I think Lark mentioned he needed a couple Flareon to run some kind of test...would be easier for him to find an Eevee if he had the Stone. Fine. You get a free pass on that one. And…” Straightening, Gary folded his arms. “...I guess I’ll let you send the Blastoisite. But don’t make this a habit, Ash, I’m not kidding. You’ve literally sent me six month’s worth of pay in two weeks, after this.”

 

“And you still haven’t sent me pictures of Aerodactyl.”

 

Gary gave him a withering look. “...I’ll get on it once my lab isn’t in danger of sudden combustion.” He drawled, tone dripping in Acid. 

 

Ash shook his head, leaning on the counter top with his forearms. “What is it that you’re doing, anyway? Whatever it is is kinda dangerous, it looks like.”

 

His friend rubbed tiredly at one of his eyes, yawning. “Uh-huh…” Gary managed around the yawn, jaw cracking. “...I can’t really say. We don’t have enough to really start spreading rumors just yet. Gimme a couple weeks, I’ll have something by then.” He hesitated, “...And I promise, I’ll email you some pictures before then. Just take it easy on me, the project’s rough work right now.”

 

“Sounds like it.” The trainer pointed out, watching the girl who’d picked up the phone the previous call run by with her lab coat smoking. Gary turned to watch her before turning back to Ash with a shrug. “Anyway...I’ll send you the Blastoisite, Gary. I’ve seen Mega Blastoise before...it looks really cool. I think you’ll like it.”

 

He watched in confusion as his former rival’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. Gary rubbed at one of them absently. “Yeah, I’m sure I will. Thanks. But really...no more Stones, okay? It’s starting to look weird.”

 

“Wull...yeah, I guess.” Pikachu crawled tiredly into Ash’s free arm, snuggling into his chest with a yawn of its own. “Listen, I should let you get back to your stuff. Don’t hurt yourself, okay? I know you’re some kinda Lab Raticate now, but--”

 

Gary tutted, waggling a finger at his friend. “Don’t even start with that stupid ‘Lab Raticate’ business, Tracey already teases me enough as it is. Go take your OWN rat to bed, it looks like you worked it too hard.”

 

Ash was no longer ten and was thus able to see that his friend was poking fun at him, so he merely smiled ruefully and pulled down an eyelid with a finger. “I’ll never work Pikachu as hard as your project’s working YOU, you jerk.”

 

“What. Ever.” Was Gary’s sharp response, rubbing a finger under his nose pointedly. “Go away, Ash.”

 

“Bye Gary.”

 

They hung up at almost the exact same time. Ash pocketed the Blastoisite; Pikachu was quite exhausted and needed a rest, so he’d wait to mail out the Stone until the next day. He figured that his life wasn’t so hectic as Gary’s at the lab, but he’d had his share of excitement for the day and that was all he wanted to deal with. “Team Rocket sure took it out of us, huh, Pikachu?” He said, quietly. The yellow Pokemon chirruped, the sound muffled by his jacket. Taking that as a clear sign that Pikachu had had enough for the day, Ash held it securely to his chest and made his way up the stairs of the Pokemon Center.

 

“Oh! Ash.” Clemont waved a little as the boy entered their rented room. Bonnie had changed into her pajamas already and was snuggled up in the bottom bunk on the right. “You just missed Serena, I think she went out for some tea.”

 

“I could use some.” His hat landed on his nightstand after being tossed absently. Gently, he deposited his sleepy starter Pokemon at the foot of his bed, stroking its back. “Sorry for taking so long. I wanted to make a phone call before I went to bed.” He explained, glancing at Clemont.

 

The gym leader frowned. “...To who?”

 

“Gary.” Ash replied, simply. He toed off his shoes by the other bottom bunk before unzipping his jacket. It was halfway off when he looked to his quiet friend again: Clemont was staring at him with a strange expression on his face. 

 

Upon Ash’s questioning gaze landing on him, the blond shifted in place. “Ash,” He began, tucking his legs up underneath of himself, “Just who is Gary, anyway? You didn’t really mention much about him, before.”

 

That seemed to brighten Ash’s mood considerably. He flopped down onto his bed, careful to avoid Pikachu. “Heh...Gary’s Professor Oak’s grandson - we grew up together, actually.”

 

“Oh...oh!” The blond nodded, “That makes sense, Professor Oak lives in Pallet Town…! But…” His smile faded and grew troubled. “...No. It doesn’t. Gary lived with his grandfather…? Where did his parents live?”

 

“Ah…” Ash shrugged, “Beats me. Gary never talked about’em. Neither did the Professor, now that I think about it. They just never came up. I mean, Gary doesn’t seem too unhappy about it...him and his grandpa get along pretty good. I was always kinda jealous of him. When we were little, it was because he got to live around Pokemon every day. When we were trainers - both of us - it was because he was always better than I was.”

 

“You said he’s a researcher, now…?”

 

“Uh-huh! He’s really smart, I guess I shoulda seen it coming. See, before he lost at the Silver Cup, he was kinda hinting he was gonna quit training and do something else. Now he’s doing what he likes. Well…” He thought to their earlier conversation, wincing, “...Sorta. Most of the time he seems to be doing okay, but recently I think his work’s really bugging him.”

 

His friend nodded. “Is he--...er...are you…?” Clemont shook his head, taking a small breath in. “...Just how good IS your friendship? You’ve said he’s one of your oldest friends, even one of your best friends, but it sounds a bit like the two of you had a falling out.”

 

Ash jerked his head down once. “We did. We just sorta drifted apart. Most of the beginning of my Pokemon journey was spent with him teasing me and talking about how much better he was. But we got past it, eventually. Around the Silver Cup was when we became friends again.” He rolled over onto his side, reaching down to dig into his backpack. Clemont only watched quietly as he rooted around before finally withdrawing a small, drawstring bag. Carefully, Ash shook it open and dumped it into his palm. “See this?” He said, selecting one of the two items that had fallen out. It was a badly damaged Pokeball...or, half of one, anyway. “Just before we went on our journeys, we both went fishing and hooked the same Pokeball. We ended up breaking it and keeping each half...after the Silver Cup, these don’t stand for our rivalry: they stand for how good-of friends we are. It’s a reminder that even though we’ve fallen apart before, we can always come back together! I think that way with all my friends, even you guys, but...Gary’s friendship’s always been important, just because of how rocky it was sometimes and how we managed to pull through anyway. So...I guess this is some sorta weird ‘Best Friend’ charm. Gary’s still got his, too.”

 

Clemont gently took the half of the Pokeball when it was passed to him, turning it over in his fingers. It was rusted, and the inner mechanics were entirely ruined. By all means, it was garbage. Still, he felt as though he was holding some sort of secret treasure. He was very careful in handing it back. “That’s a really good way to look at it, Ash...it sounds like you two really are good friends.” He admitted with a smile.

 

“Yep!” Ash grinned widely. “That’s why I’m giving him the Blastoisite! He’s got a Blastoise, so I know he’ll be able to use it.”

 

“You know, Ash, you might want to--”

 

But Clemont never got to finish: the door to their room slammed open, a twitchy Serena storming in and all but throwing her bag up onto the bed above Bonnie. She didn’t say a word, merely climbing up the ladder and flinging herself onto the sheets. Ash and Clemont exchanged looks before quietly getting into bed themselves. There was no point in trying to speak to the girl when she was that angry...they’d give her time to cool off, and speak with her in the morning.

 

\---

 

There was a message waiting at the next Pokemon Center they visited a couple weeks later. Nurse Joy had flagged Ash back to her counter after giving him and his friends their room number, looking flustered. “I’m so sorry…! It slipped my mind, it’s been so busy lately--” She squeaked, bowing slightly before handing Ash a small slip of stationary. “I got a call in this morning from a Gary Oak of Saida Island, asking for me to have an Ash Ketchum call him once he came in...and here you are, and I almost forgot!”

 

“Ah…” Ash accepted the tiny piece of paper, reading over the number scribbled hastily on it. “It’s okay. You guys are always busy. Besides, I woulda called him anyway.” 

 

Nurse Joy still bowed again in apology before he went for a phone. “Wonder what Gary wants.” He voiced aloud, reading over the woman’s hurried hand-writing again. “...This’s a different number than the one we usually use. Whaddya think, Pikachu?”

 

“Chu!”

 

With a shrug, the trainer reached out to pick up the handset for the video phone. Barely a second after he dialed the last digit, the other end of the line picked up. Oddly, though, there was no one in the frame. It merely showed what looked like a bedroom. There was a mirror hanging on the back of a door off to one side, and from what it reflected Ash could see that the ‘phone’ wasn’t really a phone: it was a laptop. “Uh…Gary?”

 

Instead of his friend appearing, a pair of black points appeared at the edge of the surface the laptop was on from the right, moving close to the middle before turning. There was a strip of golden yellow across each one, and they looked oddly familiar…

 

Pikachu startled him then by leaping from his shoulder to the counter, waggling its tiny paws. “Pi-pi-ka!” It cried, happily. Ash was entirely confused before the one of the two points twitched. Two black paws placed themselves on the edge of the desk, and soon a familiar and furry face came into view. The Pokemon the points - its ears - belonged to was an Umbreon, and it made a soft barking noise at the screen before waving one paw to Pikachu. 

 

“Umbreon!” The dark-haired boy laughed, “No wonder Pikachu got so excited. It’s nice to see you!”

 

The Dark-Type Pokemon barked again, and Pikachu began to talk to it. Ash figured that his starter had asked where Umbreon’s master was, because the bigger Pokemon gave a mournful whine before pushing away from the desk. Its ears moved away from the frame, but its barking grew slightly louder. Eventually, Ash caught another voice join in: a faint and tired groan, followed by a mumbled “Stop, Bree…”. Umbreon’s growling and barking continued, until there was a loud thump and a human-sounding yelp. The Pokemon appeared once more at the desk, looking pleased with itself.

 

The boy who appeared in frame seconds later made Ash double-take. He’d never seen Gary so...ruffled. His hair was bedraggled, clothes wrinkled and rumpled. He dug the heel of one hand into one of his eyes, using the other to wipe what looked like drool off the side of his face. The moment he let his attention fall on his laptop, though, the researcher looked ten times more awake. He pointed a finger accusingly at the screen; even if Ash was far, far away in Kalos, he still swallowed nervously.

 

“What,” Gary ground out, “did I tell you NOT to do?”

 

It took Ash a few moments to process just what Gary was talking about, and it was apparently way too long. The auburn-haired boy snatched something up out of view, thrusting it out to where Ash could see it. The stone - swirled with black and orange - glinted innocently in the angry researcher’s fist. “This, Ash! What is this?!”

 

“Uhm...it’s...the Houndoomite I sent you?” Ash guessed. “I can’t really remember what color it was, I think I’ve got it confused with the Aggronite I sent you yesterday--”

 

“YOU WHAT?!” Gary’s voice cracked under the strain of yelling, and he coughed. “You sent me ANOTHER ONE?!”

 

Realizing that he had forgotten something important, Ash glanced desperately at Pikachu for help. The Pokemon looked just as lost. “Err...did...I get it wrong? I think you have one of those Pokemon, but I sent the Houndoomite first--”

 

His friend cut him off with a frustrated moan. “Shut up, just shut up. I told you to stop sending me this stuff, Ash! How’d you forget already?! Hng...my colleagues all think this is hysterical as it is, they’re not going to let this go if you keep sending me Mega-Stones.”

 

“The Fire Stone’s not--”

 

“JUST--!” Gary raked a hand through his hair, pacing away from his desk. He was wearing jeans, Ash realized, and frowned when he deduced that his friend had gone to sleep in his day clothes. The auburn-haired boy spun back around, throwing his hands up in defeat. “You know what, fine. I guess I sound really ungrateful for telling you I don’t want these...they’re great, Ash, and I’m really--” He stammered and petered out. “...uh...really  _ grateful _ for the continued thought.”

 

“Wull, gee, that’s all you had’ta say.” Ash replied.

 

Gary hung his head. “...You honestly don’t have any friends who could use these besides me? I don’t even have an Aggron.”

 

“Ah!” The dark-haired trainer nodded solemnly, exchanging looks with Pikachu. “That was the one you didn’t have. Nah. None of my friends do. But I figure you’d be able to do something with it just like the Fire Stone.”

 

“You’re really stretching it.” Gary griped in return. He stared at the stone in his hand for a few moments silently. It must have been Ash’s imagination, because he could’ve sworn he saw his friend begin to flush red. He brushed it off as the way Gary’d slept when the boy turned back to him. “Why d’you keep sending me this stuff…? I get that most of it might be useful to me, but you really don’t have better friends to send really expensive gifts to?”

 

Something about the way Gary said that rubbed Ash the wrong way. “Better…? What’re you talkin’ about, Gary, whaddya mean ‘better’ friends?”

 

“I just mean friends that you’re...I dunno...closer to.” The researcher answered, lamely. He shrugged weakly, peering down at Umbreon as the Pokemon came to brush against his legs. “We reconciled, and I’m glad...but we don’t really talk often or do much together. I don’t really want to even mention how things were between us a couple years ago.” Gary added, quietly.

 

“Gary…” That all seemed shockingly sad...and Ash hadn’t been expecting that sort of reasoning at all, especially from Gary Oak. He wasn’t even sure what to say in return.

 

When he failed to respond, Gary went on. “It just feels uncomfortable, that’s all. I don’t really feel like I deserve these sorts of things from you.” He explained. Umbreon bumped against his legs once more, and he gave in and began to scratch behind its ears.

 

“Why wouldn’t you?” The researcher glanced up again, finally, as Ash began to speak. “You’re one of my best friends...and it’s  _ because _ we had such a rough time that I think that. I think you deserve to be rewarded, anyway: you’re doing so well with your research and stuff, and you’re still one of the best trainers I’ve ever met. Why would you think different…?”

 

“I…”

 

Gary wasn’t able to finish his sentence, but he looked a bit downtrodden. Even Umbreon seemed a bit upset. Ash wasn’t sure how exactly to handle it at all...he’d never been faced with this particular person’s feelings of inadequacy before. The Gary he knew was usually so confident and sure of himself; cocky, proud of most everything he did. This Gary before him seemed extremely uncomfortable in his own skin. There wasn’t a time in Ash’s life where he’d seen his former rival so vulnerable, save for that time long ago in Viridian City when Gary had been unconscious. 

 

“...I’m not gonna quit.” Ash finally stated, firmly. When he saw he had Gary’s attention, he nodded determinedly. “I dunno why you’re acting like you deserve to be treated like you’re not my friend, but that’s not true at all. I care about you, y’know? We’ve known each other since we were really little and we managed to stay friends even after fighting each other all the time. Believe me, if I hated you or something, I wouldn’t be sending you anything at all. I mean...I guess if you really don’t want them, I can stop…”

 

Umbreon nipped at Gary’s hand, and he frowned at the Pokemon before addressing Ash. “...No...it’s your call. If you want to keep sending them, then that’s fine. They really  _ are _ useful.” He admitted with a weak smile. “Just as long as you’re sure you’re okay with it. Don’t, y’know...go out looking for them to send to me.”

 

“You’d be surprised how common they’ve been, actually.” Replied Ash with a small chuckle.

 

His friend huffed, covering up a laugh of his own. “...Thank you. Not just for the gifts.”

 

Ash knew what he was being thanked for, and he smiled warmly. “Sure, Gary. You’re welcome. Uh...before you go back to sleep, y’might wanna change.”

 

Only then did Gary seemed to realize what he looked like, and he cringed. “Yikes...I swear, I only meant to lay down for a second.”

 

Umbreon snarled at him and startled Ash. Gary seemed fairly okay with it, though. “I know, I know…” He told the Pokemon, soothingly, “I promise, I’ll lay down again and sleep.”

 

“Have you not been sleepin’ okay…?”

 

“Err...well...not really. But in my defense, I’ve had a lot on my mind and even more that I’ve had to physically handle.” Gary reluctantly admitted. 

 

Ash softly hummed in response, frowning at the screen. “...D’you wanna talk about it? This’s the most tired I’ve ever seen you...maybe if you get some of it off your chest, it’ll help?”

 

It was as if some sort of weight had been lifted from Gary’s shoulders. “Well…” He sank down into the chair next to his desk, rolling it over so that he could get back into the center of the camera feed. “...I dunno...I think a lot of this whole me not feeling worthy or whatever has a lot to do with it, though. It’s not that I don’t feel like I’m doing my best, or even that my best isn’t enough...it’s just that the whole project is so overwhelming and SO much bigger than I thought it was going to be-- I’m sorry. Stop me if I start ranting.”

 

“You’re good. Keep goin’.” The other boy told him, leaning back in his own chair. Pikachu immediately got cozy in his lap, and for the next half an hour he let Gary talk - vaguely - about what was going on and why he seemed so fatigued. It turned out that this project he was working on was the biggest one Saida had ever had...and apparently bigger than most other things attempted in Gary’s field before in general. He had a right to feel stressed. Most of Gary’s team was working day and night on various aspects, and Gary was saddled with not only the coding portion but the physical hands on results as well. He couldn’t explain in detail about much, but Ash still was able to get the gist that whatever his friend was doing was a very, very big deal.

 

And, when time had gone by and Gary was finished pouring out his frustration, Ash noted that he  _ did  _ look a little better. In the end, he felt like the two of them had the same sorts of worries about their own lives, albeit applied very differently. Ash could very well see where Gary was coming from, and when the older boy finally stopped for a breath, he felt relieved FOR him.

 

“Thank you.” Gary breathed out. His chin was resting on his desk, and he looked very close to dozing off right in front of his computer. “For letting me vent. I really did need to. Sometimes I feel like I’d be bothering people if I did. Gramps always tells me not to worry about it, but I do.”

 

“You’re welcome. You should listen to your grandpa; he’s probably worried about you.” Answered Ash, running his fingers absently over Pikachu’s scalp.

 

The other boy nodded lazily, closing his eyes. Ash thought that was it, that his friend had finally nodded off, but Gary eventually opened one eye again to peer at him. “I never really asked you how YOU were doing.” He mumbled.

 

“Ahhh…I’m fine.” Upon seeing Gary’s guilty expression, Ash waved his free hand and gave him a shaky smile. “Buuuut I guess I can call you tomorrow and talk to you some more, if you want.”

 

“I would, actually.” Gary straightened up in his chair finally. “Do you mind calling around two? That’s the only hour I think I’ll be free.”

 

Pikachu calmly grabbed for a pencil and the stationary with Gary’s number on it, pulling them towards its trainer. Ash took the hint and scrawled a large ‘2PM - Call Gary’ under Nurse Joy’s writing before holding it up where his friend could see it. “I’ll call.” He promised, folding up the paper and stowing it in the inner breast pocket of his jacket. “Hey, listen, I know this job’s wearing you out...but if anybody can pull this off, it’s the guy who Revived Aerodactyl.”

 

Gary snorted. “Shut up, don’t be dumb.” But he still offered Ash a very genuine and warm smile; Ash wasn’t used to seeing that sort of raw emotion out of Gary, either. “But thanks. I’ll keep it in mind whenever I feel like walking out into the ocean in concrete boots…”

 

They said their good-byes (Gary promised both Ash and his Umbreon that he’d get back to sleep) and Ash waited for Pikachu to crawl up to his shoulder before getting up.

 

When he turned around, he came nose to nose with Clemont.

 

The blond boy merely raised an eyebrow at him, arms folded. Ash was a bit unnerved at the way he was being scrutinized, stepping back a pace. “Uh...hey Clemont.”

 

“Hey.” The other boy replied, peering behind Ash at the now-unoccupied phone. “...Was...that the guy? Your friend Gary?”

 

“Uh-huh. How long’ve you been standing there…?”

 

Clemont ignored him, sitting Ash back into his chair and pulling over another to sit next to him. “We need to talk.” He said, before Ash could jump in. “About you and this guy.”

 

Unsure of what to say, Ash could only glance at Pikachu briefly.

 

“Did you send him more stuff?”

 

“Uh…” Scratching his cheek, Ash shrugged, “Well...yeah. A few things.”

 

The blond gave a tiny huff, looking resigned. “Like what?”

 

“Lemme see...just a Houndoomite and an Aggronite. Why?”

 

Clemont stared at him, mouth gaping wide in shock. His glasses even slipped down his nose a little. Before Ash could wave a hand in front of his face, his friend shook himself and clapped his hands on Ash’s shoulders. “You need to stop.”

 

The demand came out of nowhere. “Stop?” Ash questioned, starting to frown. Clemont nodded. “Why? Not you too...Serena’s been telling me for a while to quit it, I really don’t get what the problem is.”

 

“Ash,” The gym-leader’s tone took on a patient, almost patronizing tone, “I want you to know that I think it’s really nice you wanna just give away these things. You can’t use them yourself and I know you think it’s the best spot to send them--”

 

“Duh--”

 

“BUT! Sending a bunch of priceless stones to ONE. PERSON.-- Can look a little odd.”

 

They stared at one another silently. When Clemont saw that Ash hadn’t grasped the concept he was trying to impress upon him, he groaned and rubbed at his eyes. “...You have no idea what I’m talking about.” He guessed, sounding miserable.

 

Ash nodded dumbly.

 

“...It looks like you’re...flirting...with your friend.” Once it was said, Clemont winced like he was afraid of being punched.

 

Instead, Ash laughed. “What?!” He managed to get out beyond his chuckles, “That’s so weird! Come on, no I don’t. I told you guys: Gary’s got most of the Pokemon these’re for, and anything else goes right to his lab buddies for their own experiments! Sheesh, if he’d heard you say that, he’d start yelling right away.” Patting Clemont on the shoulder, the boy stood up and sauntered away. “Don’t be so paranoid, Clemont. You’re starting to say some really odd stuff.”

 

Clemont could only watch his friend leave, disbelief written all over his face. “Surely,” He said faintly to himself, “...He’s not...that oblivious...right?”

 

He was not looking forward to telling the distraught Serena how his talk went. She would not be happy.

 

\---

 

They split up on their next visit to Lumoise. Bonnie and Clemont expressed a desire in heading home to visit their family for a little while; Serena for once seemed to want some time away from Ash. That left him and Pikachu on their own in the huge city with tons of time to kill. On a whim, he decided to pay a visit to the store that had been damaged some time ago by Team Rocket, and was met by a still-grateful business owner right at the counter.

 

“This place looks great, looks like nothin’ even happened!” The two of them - and Pikachu, riding in its usual place on Ash’s shoulder - were wandering around the refurbished interior. The woman beside him smiled, pleased. “You guys work pretty quick.”

 

With a laugh, the older woman patted him gently on the arm. “Well, in a business like this, you can’t really afford to stay closed for very long. Now that everything’s back to the way it was, however…” She leaned down slightly, lowering her voice. “Perhaps we can do you another favor? Is there anything you’d like?”

 

“O-oh, uh…”

 

The owner stepped back, placing a finger to her cheek and examining him carefully. It made him feel a little self-conscious; he was already quite out of place in the fancy store, and a few other well-to-do patrons had been giving him odd looks. At last, though, she smiled at him once more. “I know just the thing you need…” Before Ash could protest, she swept away while ordering him to stay put. He watched her disappear behind the front counter into a back room.

 

“...Whaddya think she’s doing, Pikachu…?” The trainer quietly asked, turning slightly so that he could see the Pokemon. All Pikachu could offer was a tiny shrug.

 

It didn’t take her long to return, thankfully, and she came back bearing a much smaller box than the one she’d presented Ash and his friends with some weeks ago. Gently, the woman ushered him along to a counter. Only when she was behind the glass case did she open her box. Inside was a silver hat-clip with a circular depression in the middle - beside it was a rainbow-colored stone with a striking black symbol inside. Ash knew what it was immediately.

 

“A Keystone.” She explained. Her hands delicately plucked the stone up out of its velvet cushion, holding it closer to the light so that its many colors cast beautiful reflected rays. “Used by trainers to unlock the hidden forms of their Pokemon. Do you have a Mega Stone yet, young man?”

 

“W’ll…” Ash’s excited expression twisted into a troubled frown. “I...sorta did. But I couldn’t use them so...I gave them to my friend.”

 

Her eyes lit up, some sort of sly and knowing emotion flitting inside them. “Oh my. I see. More than one…?” She questioned, gently.

 

“Uh-huh. Lemme think...First it was the Aerodactylite. I gave him Aggronite, Houndoomite, a Blastoisite. Oh-!” Ash hurriedly pulled his bag off his shoulders, bending down to the floor to root through it feverishly. He stood up with a triumphant ‘Ah-ha!’, clutching a marble-like object. He extended this to the woman, who blinked in astonishment. “And I was planning on sending him this one, soon, too: Alakazite. He’s got an Alakazam--...wah, I’ve never seen it, but…” Finally, Ash noticed how star-struck the woman looked and petered off. “Um...Is...that bad?”

 

With a shake of her carefully coifed grey hair, the woman gently handed the Alakazite back to him. “Not at all, no! Certainly not. You’ll...you’ll have to forgive me. I never expected such a young-- b-but, regardless,” She patted at her face, embarrassed at her slip up, “does this friend of yours possess a Keystone of his own?”

 

Ash thought for a moment. He couldn’t recall Gary ever saying that he had one...and Ash had never seen one. “I dunno.” Was his truthful answer.

 

With a nod, she placed the stone back in the box and handed it towards him. “Here. No no--no charge.” She said, holding up a hand when he tried to grab his wallet. “Please. Think of it as a token of my continued gratitude. It would go nicely on that hat of yours, but…” With a knowing smile, she winked. “...Maybe it’ll look just as nice pinned to your friend’s shirt, hm?”

 

“Ah...hey, yeah! That’s perfect...my friend’s a researcher, so he can wear it on his coat! I bet that’ll look really cool, huh, buddy?” 

 

Pikachu grinned. “Pi-ka!”

 

“I could wrap that Alakazite for you, if you’d like.” A soft, wrinkled hand reached back across the counter. “Give it something a bit safer to travel in than a pouch.”

 

Ash accepted and was soon on his way, waving goodbye to the woman and promising to visit again soon. He was extremely eager to ship the Mega Stone to Gary, but upon thinking of the other box, he decided to make a call first.

 

“Pi-pi-chu?” Squeaked his Pokemon as he began to dial in a number. The Nurse Joy had recognized them from their previous trips to Lumoise and was more than happy to let him use one of the phones. However, it wasn’t the lab in Saida he was calling.

 

Instead of Gary’s face appearing, it was his grandfather’s: Professor Oak of Pallet Town, the place Ash grew up. Upon seeing who was calling, the old man grinned widely. “Well now! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

 

“Hi Professor. How’s everything back home?”

 

“Quiet, thankfully.” The professor dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. “Warm, but quiet. And Kalos for you?”

 

“It’s great! I’ve made some new friends and caught a bunch of new Pokemon. I gotta tell you some of the stuff that’s happened, Professor-- Uuuuhhh but maybe some other time.” Ash winced, looking apologetic. “I actually needed t’ask you something real quick.”

 

“Oh?”

 

With a nod, Ash withdrew the longer box from the bag he’d been given, opening it up for Professor Oak to see. The man’s eyes grew wide. “It’s a long story, but...see, my friends and I ended up saving this store from Team Rocket. They sell precious stones’n stuff, and the lady who owns it’s been really nice since then. She gave me this. Iiiii don’t really have any Mega Stones except this one right now--” The other box was opened, and Professor Oak looked like someone had given him a rare Pokemon to look after. “...but I don’t have the Pokemon it goes to. Gary does, though. So...I wanted to know if Gary’s got a Keystone yet.”

 

The old man nodded in understanding, then shook himself out of his dazed stupor and leaned in towards the screen. “You want to know if he has--what now? A Keystone? W-well...No. Not that I know of.” There was a strike of recognition that stole over his face. “Oh, I see now...So YOU’RE the one who’s been sending my grandson all those fancy stones. I must admit...I’m very surprised, Ash.”

 

The boy only offered him a sheepish laugh. “Y’caught me. But Gary can actually use most of the ones I’ve sent him. He still has an Alakazam, right?”

 

“Yes…”

 

“So then I can send him both of these! Ha, this is great. I didn’t know what I was gonna do with’em…”

 

“Ash…” The man cleared his throat. “I appreciate you sending these sorts of lavish gifts to Gary, but are you sure this isn’t a bit much?”

 

“Awww...not you too, Professor!” The boy whined, slumping forward. Pikachu mirrored his posture, reaching over to pat its master on the head. “Why’s everybody bein’ so weird about it? My friends are sayin’ the same sorts’a stuff.”

 

Flustered, the professor tried to pacify him. “I in no way am suggesting that your gifts aren’t wanted…!” He stammered, holding up his free hand and waving it for peace. “If your intentions are good, than I have absolutely no problem with it. In fact...you have my blessing. I’d ask that you not mention that to him, though - he can get so embarrassed about me saying those sorts of things.”

 

Ash shared a small laugh with him, straightening up in his seat. “Okay. Thanks for helping me. I wanted this one to be a surprise, but I didn’t wanna give him something he already had.”

 

“Oh...I doubt he’d mind, if it’s from you.” Professor Oak murmured, seemingly to himself.

 

Soon after, Ash beat a hasty retreat and had to say his good-byes. He promised the professor that he’d call his mother and check up on her - something that the man seemed adamant that he do soon. The trainer also sent out a quick call to Saida Island; he wasn’t able to reach Gary, but one of his coworkers - a slightly roundish looking boy with a bandana - promised to pass along his message. The kid smirked at him when Ash said it was a surprise, but agreed nonetheless to let his friend know to keep an eye out.

 

Nurse Joy also gave him a happy, knowing look when he approached her to have her send out his gifts. “Something else for your special friend?” The woman practically cooed. She handled both wooden boxes with care, setting them in a large box and packing it with bits of newspaper. When Ash nodded, the nurse put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Oh my~ Well, I’ll send out our best carrier to make sure it gets there safe and sound. You know, my Flying-Types are fighting over each other to see who gets to take your next package. Saida Island must be wonderful.”

 

Ash and Pikachu exchanged a look. Neither of them had ever been to said island. In fact, other than knowing Gary was stationed there, Ash didn’t know very much about it at all. He finally shrugged, causing Nurse Joy to blink in confusion at him. “I dunno. I’ve never been there. Hm...y’know what, though? Yeah...maybe I oughta see about visiting. Then Gary doesn’t have a reason  _ not _ to show me Aerodactyl.” With a laugh, Ash ruffled the fur on Pikachu’s head. “Whaddya think, buddy, should we see when we can catch a flight out?”

 

“Pika, Pika!~” The Pokemon replied, waving its arms enthusiastically. Nurse Joy was looking on with glittering eyes until Ash turned back to her, and the woman quickly turned back to her task while looking embarrassed. She was careful in moving the box away from the counter.


	2. Act Your Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Act Your Age' is a Canon Continuation story where Gary rescues Ash from a cringe-worthy 21st birthday.
> 
> This story is set when the cast is older - early 20's range - and takes place during Ash's 21st birthday. There is sexual content, as well as alcohol and drug use. There's some unrequited Serena/Ash in the beginning.

It was during the third love song sung by Serena that Ash Ketchum stopped trying to look like he was having a good time. She was an amazing singer, and plenty of other people there seemed to enjoy her whenever she got up to the mike...but there were only so many ‘subtle’ hints he could take in one night, only so many nudges and elbows and laughter at his expense from his male friends.

 

He’d only gotten his hands on one beer, and it was nowhere near enough to ease up just how awkward and ridiculous he felt.

 

“- _ Well first comes love and then comes...First date, first kiss; we were checking off the list, then you were getting down on your knee and you didn’t have to guess. It was always a yes- _ ”

 

Gee, wonder what  _ THAT  _ was about. What a hard question to answer. Still, Ash forced a smile when May practically elbowed him in the neck, dropping it once she’d gone back to wolf-whistling at the girl at the karaoke mike. He’d given up trying to get another drink by that point: his requests and hints for one fell on deaf ears and his friends kept forcing him back down into his seat to sit through yet another love song from the blond girl or a funny-the-first-time-not-the-seventh song from one of the guys. It was infuriating. He was being treated like he’d turned eighteen, not twenty-one. Half the time, his friends began to talk to him like he was ten or eleven still. Ash didn’t blame them, usually, because he acted like a kid most of the time. There was really no reason for it to happen that night.

 

“- _ Now there’s two less fish in the sea. Let’s set the date! Let’s hire a band! Let’s cut the cake! Tie up the cans!- _ ”

 

Whistling, laughter. Someone clapped a hand on his shoulder. Serena was looking right at him, smiling and blushing like she had been all night, and Ash pointedly looked away. If he had to sit through any more of this nightmare, he’d scream. When he went to stand up, murmuring about getting that second drink, he was nearly put into a choke-hold by Drew and Brock and forced back into his seat, the pair of them commenting on Serena’s song of choice while Ash struggled to get back up. 

 

When something blissfully cold and wet touched his face, Ash was startled out of entertaining thoughts of beating his two friends to figure out what was pressed against his cheek. He nearly moaned aloud when he saw someone was dangling a beer in front of him, reaching up to take it. It was only when he had swallowed half of it in a second that he paused to see who’d finally taken pity on him.

 

“What are you, some kind of fish? If you wanted to inhale it, I would’ve grabbed two.”

 

Vaguely, Ash was aware that some of his friends’ antics had faded out and ominously quieted, but he was too grateful to Gary Oak - of course it was him, Ash reasoned - to care. “You’re late.” He growled in return, though there was no bite to it and he cracked a grin before pulling a chair out next to himself. “But thank you. I was getting kinda parched.”

 

“Is that a word with some sophistication behind it?” Gary shot back, dropping down into the offered chair and leaning back, “You really are a year older. Happy birthday you fucking idiot.” Ash only rolled his eyes, taking another long drink before being nudged again; Serena was still singing, and apparently no one had given up in trying to get him to give a fuck. “Soooo uh...guess this one’s dedicated to you? She does know you’ve got the romantic knowledge of a teaspoon, right?”

 

“Fuck you.” The dark-haired trainer bit out a little too harshly. He covered it with the beer, draining it in seconds and staring mournfully at its empty confines.

 

“- _ I love the ring of your name. You’re the yin to my yang. Oh baby let’s give it a shot: Every wall needs a frame, every ball needs a chain- _ ”

 

Beside him, Ash heard Gary make a noise that was a cross between gagging and clicking one’s tongue. Ash made a humming noise in agreement, setting his empty bottle on the table only for another to be pressed into his hand. Gary attempted to look innocent. “So maybe I got one for me. You look like you need it more. Just how many have you had?”

 

“Besides the one you gave me and this one? One.” His former rival’s face took on a pitying expression that was only partially mocking. Ash popped off the cap, downing a more reasonable first swallow then the one before. “Not like I haven’t tried to get any more, but apparently my ass is supposed to be glued here all night. No idea what anyone wants me to do when I need to take a leak.” He knew at least one of his friends at heard him, because their elbow quickly pulled back from where it was about to knock him in the ribs. Ash couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

 

“So I’ll be your beer-boy...not like there’s anything else available besides sake.” Gary was saying, and Ash tuned back into him. “It  _ is  _ a karaoke bar, not sure what else you expected.” The trainer stayed quiet, aware that Gary was getting a funny look on his face little by little. He didn’t say a word. Eventually, Gary batted at his arm with the back of his hand, frowning. “Don’t tell me this wasn’t your idea.” Ash minutely shook his head, eyes flickering to the rest of his friends to make a point not to speak too loudly on the manner. The other man’s eyes filled with sympathy. “That’s fucking bullshit, are you serious?”

 

“Dead.” Was all Ash mumbled, slumping forward over the table.

 

“- _ From a miss to a misses _ -”

 

“Kill me.”

 

Gary gripped his shoulder, glaring at Drew when the green-haired male almost knocked Ash’s hat off his head. “I’d get fired from my lab if I had to undergo a murder investigation, so I can’t help you with that.” He murmured, leaning closer once the disgruntled contest participant moved away, “But what I can do is take you where you wanna go and spend some money so you can forget this little fiasco ever happened. Ideas?”

 

Immediately, Ash was all ears. He had wanted to get out of the karaoke bar two hours ago, when the first couple songs had come on. It hadn’t been his idea of a fun time at all. He was a god-damn adult now, he didn’t want to be treated like a wet-behind-the-ears drinking rookie and he certainly didn’t want to sit through songs sung by friends where it was painfully obvious that they wanted to get in his pants. No one was listening to him, and he wasn’t having fun.

 

“Get me out of here.”

 

“Yes, boss.” Gary gravely replied, standing. The song had ended, and he pulled Ash up with him. Immediately, Ash’s friends grabbed for him, laughing and protesting. Gary slid between the small crowd and the dark-haired man. “Yo, can he go take a piss or are you guys gonna put him in a diaper? Fuck off, go on.”

 

That didn’t go over well; Some of Ash’s friends scowled, and he was about to jump in to intervene when he caught sight of Serena walking through the crowd towards him. Instead of pacifying them, he finally stuck to his guns. “No, seriously, I have to go. My eyeballs are floating. I’ll come back in like five seconds. Gary?” The auburn-haired man quirked a brow, “Grab me another beer?”

 

The smirk on Gary’s face showed he’d gotten the cue, and the pair separated while the group joked at Ash’s expense. A hand grabbed for Ash’s arm and he brushed at it, only for it to come back as he kept walking. “Ash?” With a groan, he steeled himself to look at the blond girl next to him. She smiled, looked at her feet and -  _ oh Arceus no, she’s gonna do it isn’t she _ ? - blushed like a schoolgirl before opening her mouth. “I know how that sounded up there...I just wanna...talk to you about that while-...while we’re alone…”

 

“Uh...right now? I gotta, y’know…”

 

The girl turned bright red, biting her lip. “I...well, I...Ash, I’ve been thinking about this a long time--”

 

“So what’s a few minutes?” Ash bluntly cut in. “Serena, later. I can’t exactly focus on anything like this.”

 

Put out, Serena none-the-less smiled and drew back. “Okay. I’ll see you when you’re out...we can talk in private.”

 

“Uh-huh, sure.” Ash edged a foot away, only to have the girl take a step closer. “...Uh...Serena?”

 

“Yes?” Her voice was full of excitement, and Ash felt bad for not being able to give her what she wanted.

 

“Um...A few minutes? Remember?”

 

She skittered away after that, mumbling apologies, and Ash ducked into the men’s bathroom. No one was there, thankfully, but it didn’t solve his problem. Now he likely had the girl staring at the door like a vulture, and he’d be unlikely to leave. What was he supposed to--

 

The small window up at the top of the wall opposite him opened from the outside, and Gary peered in. “Come on, before someone sees!”

 

Grinning, he grasped Gary’s forearms and let the man help haul him up out of the bathroom. The researcher was standing on a stack of pallets just outside the window, and they wobbled dangerously once Ash landed on them. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” He told Gary as the pair brushed themselves off and discretely made their way down the alley.

 

“You can suck my dick later,” The other man snarked dismissively, stopping Ash with a hand to his chest and peering around the corner. “...Coast is clear. Come on, I took a cab over. Let’s grab one and get the fuck outta here before your entourage notices you’re gone.”

 

Ash couldn’t help but also peek before following Gary out of the alley and towards the busy highway instead of to the mildly-crowded parking lot for the karaoke bar. Finally, he felt excited for the evening. Gary would know where to go and what to do and how to do it: he always seemed to know when Ash needed to get out and catch a breath of fresh air. In fact, since their mending of fences years ago, Gary seemed to be Ash’s saving grace when it came to living a little. The pair of them had remembered quickly why they’d been such close friends as kids: they enjoyed doing a lot of the same things. Ash was also not adverse to trying things Gary liked to do - they had gone to an art museum at one point and actually acted like well-mannered adults, once - and Gary likewise wasn’t so stuck up that he couldn’t enjoy getting his hands dirty. They were thick as thieves...not that any of Ash’s other friends would know that.

 

And it was clear that they didn’t know much about Ash at all, really, if that night was any indication. Ash really couldn’t blame them for that. He didn’t make his exploits with Gary known, simply because Gary still had this stigma hovering in his group of friends that made him seem like he was still an asshole...and Gary was, there was no doubt. He was just a  _ tolerable, fun  _ asshole. It wouldn’t have killed them to do something that didn’t involve him being held hostage with no alcohol on his twenty-first birthday, however.

 

“Hey.” Gary clicked his fingers in Ash’s face, bringing him back to reality. “You really that bummed out about this? They’re your buddies, you can’t be too pissed.”

 

Rolling his shoulders and trying not to shiver in the surprisingly cool night air, Ash shook his head. “Not pissed...okay, yeah, maybe a little annoyed. I just didn’t want to spend the whole night stuck there listening to other people sing, getting forced to sing--”

 

“You sing well, though.” His friend innocently chimed in.

 

Swatting at Gary, he went on. “No alcohol, dealing with the awkward confessions of love-- Seriously, she waited  _ this  _ long, like...It’s been almost ten years, Gary. And she decides tonight she’s gonna go for it right when I go take a piss. The fuck?”

 

“I don’t pretend to understand women, Ashy-Boy.” Gary replied, dryly. He held out his hand, waiting until the cab he’d flagged came to a stop before looking back at Ash. “You know you’re gonna have to explain yourself tomorrow.”

 

Ash couldn’t help but smirk back at him. ‘Tomorrow’ implied that Gary didn’t plan on letting him get only a couple tastes of proper nightlife. “I’m a big boy,” He drawled, opening the passenger side door and climbing into the back, “I can handle it.”

 

“We’ll see.” Gary slyly said. He got into the other side of the cab, passing a small fold of money up to the driver. “It’s this moron’s I’m-Legal-to-Get-Shitfaced birthday. There’s extra in it for you if you promise to be our personal chauffeur. Sound good?”

 

“You got it. Where to?”

 

There was no way that Gary’s smirk wasn’t contagious: soon, both the driver peering in the rearview mirror and Ash were wearing the same expression. “Take us to  _ Prussia _ .” The auburn-haired man purred. “I’ll win you two grand.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“Two grand?” Ash questioned, raising a disbelieving eyebrow as the cab started away from the curb.

 

His friend nodded, looking so sure of himself that it was impossible not to agree with him when he said: “Of course.”

 

Ash threw back his head and laughed.

 

\--

 

Gary was not bluffing about winning the money for the cab driver. 

 

_ Prussia  _ was easily one of the biggest and lavish casinos in the region; the minimum to get in the door was five hundred a person, and bets at tables easily reached six digits. Gary had had no problem with getting inside, paying for Ash’s entrance fee and tossing him another five hundred in chips. The moment the pair of them sat at a table, they were approached with drink menus that the pair of them immediately ordered from. Gary chipped in for this, too, loudly letting those nearby know that it was indeed his friend’s birthday. A few more chips were tossed Ash’s way in celebration from others at the table amidst happy cheers, and the games began.

 

Ash was shaky at most of the games they played at best, but had to admit he was having fun watching and being apart of it all. The drinks were plentiful, ranging from sharp to smooth and everything in between. He tried as many as he could, swapping with Gary when he didn’t care for one or more of them. His pile of chips only evened out, most of the time, but he noticed he was losing more than he was gaining. He wasn’t worried: Gary seemed to be making more than enough for both of them.

 

“All in.” The researcher called, pushing his entire stack - easily five grand, by that point - to the dealer. The catcalls and cheers around the table made Ash laugh a little harder, and he put all of his in - a little less than three hundred. The waiter tending to the pair so diligently returned with a tumbler of spicy rum, and Ash thanked him graciously while the dealer tossed out cards. He was busy downing it when the crowd around the table erupted with glee and excitement: Gary had won.

 

The cab driver was delighted with the cash Gary clumsily handed him when they left, and they were off again. Ash was buzzing with alcohol and good feelings, so when Gary pushed him out of the cab in front of one of the swankiest night-clubs he’d ever seen, he whooped and readied himself once again.

 

The place was of course packed. There were people dancing close enough to fuse together out on the wide floor, and even more milling about by the tables and the bar. Gary lay a couple hundreds out on the bar, declared again that it was Ash’s birthday and promptly bought a round for anyone in range. He wasn’t the only one passing the man drinks, either: plenty of folks bought him a beer or a specialty drink, and the bar-tender - some cute and barely-legal brunette with a rack to kill for - kept passing him some ‘on the house’.

 

At some point between drinks, Ash was dragged off to a back room where an even bustier brunette appeared dressed in the thinnest lace panties and bra he’d ever seen. She gave him a sultry smile, crawled onto his lap and danced until he was sure he’d put on a pair of pants too small. Somewhere to his right, Gary was laughing almost into his ear and receiving his own special treatment from a blonde bombshell that seemed enamored with the bills he kept putting into her bra. When the two women began to make-out over top of them, Gary passed Ash a little button stuck on a tiny piece of paper, putting his own into his mouth.

 

After that, things became a multi-colored haven of ecstasy. Both he and Gary were taking selfies sporadically, moving back and forth from the strippers’ room to the dance floor to the bar and back again. Three girls, sloppy drunk, pressed in close to him and moved like ocean waves at one point. A very manly - but not unwelcome - hand grabbed his crotch at another. He remembered seeing Gary between both a laughing red-head and an equally amused black man that was at least two heads taller than his grinning friend. They laid Ash out over the bar and poured a sickly-sweet concoction down his throat until he gagged, then cheered and roared with laughter when he fell off the bar onto the floor.

 

He remembered sweating, he remembered moving against some girl he didn’t know. Then a man. 

 

And then Gary.

 

Neither of them seemed to care at all. Gary was slurring all sorts of awful, raunchy jokes into his ears and Ash was laughing and trying to come up with his own. At one point he put his face between the researcher’s jaw and collarbone and sucked until his friend moaned his name.

 

The cab driver didn’t ask any questions when they stumbled back into his vehicle, accepting more than necessary for their fare from Gary while they shoved at one another and laughed and kissed like their lives depended on it. He dropped them at a hotel, grinning and wishing them a good night as Gary paid him again before leading he and Ash to the hotel doors. The lighting in the elevator was dim, the air hot and stuffy and Gary was telling him to stop trying to pull off his shirt. He pushed the researcher face first up against the door of Gary’s room, groping around the front of his body and trying to grind himself against the other man’s ass at the same time.

 

“The door-” Gary managed to grumble, sounding much more submissive than earlier.

 

“Fuck the door.” Was Ash’s harsh reply, only to snatch the card from Gary’s hand and swipe it in the lock. It took a couple tries - no doubt because Ash was only half concentrating on the task - but eventually the small light on the lock turned green and the two practically spilled into the dark room. “‘S ‘s y’r room’re mine?” He slurred to Gary, kicking off his shoes and groping for the light.

 

“Mine, stupid.”

 

“Y’r stupid.”

 

“Y’R stupid.”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

It was still dark, but he’d found Gary in the dark and the two of them were pressed close enough together to be considered one entity. His friend tasted like champagne and coconut rum, his lips swollen. He wanted to be jealous of how many people Gary had likely kissed that night, but couldn’t manage to be anything but aroused. After all, who was the one here with Gary? None of those people. Ash was drunkenly proud of this feat, and reveled in it absently before he was shoved backwards and sank into pristine hotel sheets.

 

“Y’r drunk.” Gary told him, pulling his shirt off over his head.

 

Ash could only watch, pleasantly dazed. “So’re you.” He pointed out, smirking when he did so. 

 

Abruptly, his friend moved away. Ash sat up slowly to watch the man stand in front of the mirror with his arms crossed. “...S’a matter?”

 

“Drunk.” Gary deadpanned. He rubbed at his eyes absently. “We’ll regret it.”

 

Ash’s response was to start undoing his pants, fixed on Gary’s reflection in the mirror. It didn’t take long for Gary to look, though it didn’t make Ash pause. Finally, the auburn-haired man turned back to the bed and approached cautiously. When he was close enough, Ash’s hands lashed out and grabbed the belt loops of Gary’s pants to tug him closer. Predictably, it threw Gary off balance. The end result was the older man laying overtop of Ash.

 

“Nah.” Ash finally answered, his palms smoothing down Gary’s bare back. “‘M not.”

 

“Y’will.” The older man countered.

 

Irritated, Ash reached up and fisted a hand in Gary’s hair to pull him down. The researcher didn’t fight the kiss. “Won’t.” The trainer breathed. It certainly seemed like he was telling the truth: his dick was rock hard and bulging out of his pants where he’d unzipped them, and if Gary’s own digging into his pelvis was any indication then Gary likely wouldn’t, either. When he rolled his hips upwards Gary growled down at him and pressed him into the mattress. Ash thought he heard the researcher mutter ‘Fine’ under his breath. In a slightly louder voice, Gary asked: “Wha’did’y want?” Ash must have looked on with dumb curiosity, because the researcher rolled his eyes, “‘S up t’you…’s y’re birthday, still…”

 

It took a lot of concentration for Ash to grasp through his drunken haze what Gary was suggesting, and he arched his eyebrows. It hadn’t even occurred to him what they’d actually  _ do  _ once they got to this point, and suddenly the ball was in his court. He was much too drunk for this choice; it really wasn’t fair.

 

Regardless, he blurted out the first thing that crossed his mind. “‘S wha’ Paul said true…?”

 

The auburn-haired man blinked slowly. “...About…?” He drawled, shifting impatiently. It made Ash hiss.

 

“‘Bout you suckin’ him off?~” The trainer managed, anyway, smirking. Gary’s whole face flushed bright red. “Haa~...So y’re the BEST, ‘pparently~”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Y’re gonna, y’said you were…”

 

Gary must have hated the fact that Ash was right; he kissed him hard enough to bruise Ash’s lips. “S’at what y’want ‘r not?” He growled, and Ash continued to smirk at him.

 

“Ride me.” He managed without slurring.

 

“Bastard.” Still, the next kiss was a little softer. Fingers inched down Ash’s torso, slipped into his boxers and groped at his shaft. His own hands reached for Gary’s ass and squeezed. All too soon the other man wrenched away, sitting up and fumbling with the buttons on Ash’s shirt. Ash vaguely thought about how much he hadn’t wanted to wear it, with it’s pastel green and yellow plaid pattern and much too fussy cuffed short sleeves. He couldn’t remember who he’d worn it to pacify, just knew that it hadn’t been himself. A flicker of frustration flew through him and he reached up to yank the shirt apart on his own. He was pretty sure one of the buttons popped off and flew into the bathroom. It made Gary laugh, though, and the irritation faded away once the auburn-haired male’s lips latched onto his exposed collarbone.

 

He let Gary make a couple bright hickeys before he had to stop and fling the ugly shirt off the bed, let him even laugh at that before trying to gently - but clumsily - guide him back down. Thankfully, Gary took the hint and wasn’t offended by it (if he was, he at least didn’t say it right then). Ash sank back onto the pillows and down comforter of the hotel bed, groaning as his friend’s mouth trailed lower and lower down his torso. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Act Your Age' hasn't been touched in 2 years, unfortunately. I can't for-see this one ever getting finished.


	3. Global Decay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Global Decay' is a Zombie Apocalypse Alternate Universe story where Ash sails along the coast in an effort to reach Gary, battling hoards of Shamblers along the way.
> 
> This story is set in the modern-day real world after a devastating illness has decimated the human population and reduced many of them to 'Shamblers' - zombies. There is a fair amount of gore and disturbing imagery described in this story.

_ ‘Wish we could turn back time _

_ To the good old days. _

_ When our mama sang us to sleep _

_ But now we’re stressed out’ _

 

  * __Twenty One Pilots; ‘Stressed Out’__



 

 

\--

 

His lips are so chapped. Eyelids gummed together, salt crusted to his eyelashes and his hair. Wind rustled and tousled dark strands - he hadn’t had a shower in weeks. There was no time. It didn’t matter; no one was around to tell him he smelled bad.

 

_ “Do you EVER shower? Like, ever? You reek…” _

 

Just like that, his eyes are open. The floor rocks softly beneath him, a bit like a cradle. And just like a cradle, he feels safer in this boat. He’s alone. The sun is his companion. There’s food now, that he can catch at will. Basic knowledge of how to distill ocean water has kept him from dehydrating too much. It’s the wind that’s chapping his lips so much.

 

_ “They’re so dry...here. It’s chapstick. Don’t laugh at me!” _

 

The cry of a gull sounds overhead. He tilts his head back , squinting in the harsh light of day as the avian shadow circles. It wants food he doesn’t have. Maybe it’s just as alone as he is. He still doesn’t know if animals have been as affected as people.

 

_ “This disease...it’s complicated. I don’t think me and grandpa will be coming back anytime soon. Not until this is over. I know I said that it’s not in your area yet...but promise me,  _ **_promise me_ ** _ \-- you’ll get out if you hear anything at all. Please.” _

 

Just like every morning since leaving home, Ash Ketchum opens dry, cracked lips and utters a name out into the open air. And, just like every morning since then, no one has answered back.

 

“Gary.”

 

The gull squeals at him and glides away. Turns out the apocalypse is pretty damn lonely.

 

\--

 

He keeps track of the days on a calendar he’s had pinned to the wheelhouse wall since stealing the boat. As he looks at all of the pen marks, he vaguely thinks  _ ‘How long does it take a corpse to decompose?’ _ . He doesn’t know the answer. Ash was never the smartest kid in the class when it came to science or math or….much of anything, really. He was practical, and good with his hands. People usually had something pretty demeaning to say of his future when they picked up on it, but he never remembered caring at all until after this whole thing started.

 

Weakly, he pens out another day on the kitten-picture calendar. It’s been over a month. A month of the ocean, mostly, with occasional stops on mapped out shores. He hates making those stops. He hates what might be waiting there for him. Mostly, he hates knowing that he’s still got some time to go before he has any hope of reaching New York. 

 

_ “In New York, Gary…?!” _

 

_ “It’s a big deal for my field, I can’t just turn this down--!” _

_ “You don’t have to go to the dick-tip of the country for your field!” _

 

He doesn’t get angry at the memory. Lately, Ash’s found that he’s pretty god-damn emotionless. He’s even checked himself once or twice to make sure he hasn’t contracted The Illness. He still feels rather self-aware, so he’d guess he’s healthy. For now.

 

Blearily, he focuses on the calendar and tries not to feel dread freezing the meager contents of his belly. ‘Wilmington, DE’, it says. Ash doesn’t want to stop in Wilmington, DE. He wants to keep as far away from land as he can, but he knows he can’t. His food supplies are low, and he can’t survive on fish alone. The boat needs gas in another week, and he’d rather stock up now than wait until the last minute. More importantly, distilling salt water isn’t very effective and the pitiful amounts that wet his throat only will help for so long. There might even be weapons he can pilfer. It’s not like he has a vast collection at his disposal, and they’re very needed.

 

From what he knows about Wilmington, based on magazines he’d jacked a few days ago, it used to be crime central. The good chance that there’d be a few guns laying around for him to scavenge is too great to pass up. He needs to go scavenging, and soon.

 

“Well, Buddy,” He grumbles, his voice sounding hoarse, “let’s set a course.”

 

Buddy is a tiny wind up rat toy he found on one of his first runs into a town. Why they still made the stupid things eluded him, but it was marked with the name ‘Buddy’ and he felt obligated to keep it for whatever reason. It helps him keep a sense of human emotion intact despite how badly the rest of it’s been shredded. The rat doesn’t make a noise, but shudders a little as he turns on his boat and cranks up the anchor. 

 

He named her ‘Briana II’. He hopes Briana I is still alive by the time he gets to New York. Gary loved that dog so much. 

 

_ “Good girl! Go get him-- get him! Get Ash! Ha ha, like she’d ever hurt you.” _

 

He wishes his phone still had power. He wishes he’d gotten some of the pictures on it printed before it died for good. Wishing doesn’t really work now, though, and he’s had to accept it and move on. The boy’s fingers find the charm tied tightly around his throat, fingers the scratched up yellow and green enamel. 

 

He can’t remember why he chose that one on his way out the door, weeks ago. Honestly, Ash can barely remember anything from that day. The one thing he recalls any given time he thinks on it is the sheer terror that roiled in his guts and kept his heart in his throat. He remembers dumping Gary’s box of possessions out on their bed, a little simple wooden box with knickknacks Gary wanted to save for some silly shadow-box he’d been wanting to make for years. All the movie ticket stubs fluttered about in the morning light. A polaroid of Gary’s late mother and father holding him in the hospital shot under the bed. A tiny statue of the high-school mascot from their home town thumped onto the bedspread. Ash only took two items. One was the necklace that he tied tight around his neck, and the other was a very ragged stuffed dog that’d seen every year of Gary Oak’s life.

 

The dog sits in Ash’s inner jacket pocket, close to his heart. He falls asleep with it when it’s safe to sleep. He tricks himself into thinking it still smells like Gary, and not like the filthy mess Ash himself has become over the past few weeks. His hand trails down from the pendant to settle over his heart, where the lump of the stuffed toy sits, and sets his course.

 

“Grocery day.” He says to no one. He pretends that Buddy the wind up rat squeaks, and that Gary’s ratty old dog barks. Most of all, he pretends that Gary is there to reply:  _ “Don’t forget anything this time, dipshit.” _

 

The seagull is gone.

 

\--

 

Wilmington can’t fool him.

 

The beautiful condominiums and the tall office buildings look swell, but he can smell the city from out on the water. Coming this far up the canal was not in his plans, but he’d seen the smallest of towns on his way through and knows this is his best bet. It means backtracking down the Maryland coast before making a U-turn at the tip and hauling ass back North, but there’s no going back. He needs supplies.

 

Even when it was bustling with living people, the city probably was a shithole. 

 

He’s cautious in guiding his vessel along the water to the nearest dock. He makes sure to pick the one furthest from the actual shore, knowing that trying to set up traps will be difficult close to land. If he has room to work with, it’ll thin the herds before he reaches his boat. If he needs to.

 

He really hopes it won’t come to that.

 

There’s no sign of anyone when he finally pulls up along the wooden dock, his boat thumping gently against the rubber buffers alongside it. His heart still starts climbing steadily into his throat. He doesn’t want to. He needs to. He doesn’t want to.  _ He needs to _ .

 

Need outweighs want. Ash ties up his boat reluctantly and begins to set up his stakes. The pikes are small, coated in barbed wire, and he uses sandbags to prop them up a few feet along the dock. Bear traps next. He only has three working ones now - seven were lost on other docks. There was no getting them back. Sometimes, he managed to retrieve some before having to gun Briana II out to sea. Sometimes not. Maybe he’d grab some here if they were available.

 

From what he can see as he shoulders his hiking pack (empty save for one last bottle of water, two fruit and nut bars, a portable radio unit and a first aid kit), there’s a thick gate across the entrance to the docks. That’s already a good sign: docks that needed gates offered a bit more protection for obvious reasons. Still, he keeps his rifle tight in his hands. There are other boats of various shapes and sizes still anchored - perhaps forever - to the wooden platforms. There’s no telling what could be in them. Ash learned that the hard way in the beginning.

 

It’s a slow walk along the pier. He shines his light into each boat he comes across, a simple battery flashlight he attached to the bill of one of his ball caps with some nuts and bolts. All he has to do is turn his head. Daylight offers him help in spotting the contents of the vessels, but thankfully he sees and hears nothing suspicious so far. He debates scouring some of the boats for leftovers, but knows it’ll waste too much time for little reward. He does take some time to set up gas siphons. It’ll suck if another survivor finds the boats later on far after Ash’s collected his spoils and left, but Ash’s also learned not to think on that for long.

 

The boats are usually what make him sad. Once in a while, he’ll come across a keel with a name on it that’s clearly someone’s wife or mother or daughter. He sees pictures in the wheel-houses, sometimes. Lives that are likely gone forever, boats that will never again tread open water again and will remain tethered for God knew how long. The feeble hope, from what he hears on the occasional radio broadcast on the ham set, is that once this is over the clean up can begin. He only takes gas from boats, not simply because it’s safe...but because he doesn’t feel right combing through the lives of others. It’s why he tries his best not to break into houses, too.

 

There’s a tiny guard’s station next to the gate. The window is plated with bullet-proof glass, and Ash can see a bit of his reflection in it when he reluctantly tries to see into the booth. To his relief, the station is empty - whoever was posted there wasn’t still lurking after death. It’s a good start to an errand he really doesn’t want to take too long with. Gingerly, he eases the thick gate back along its track. The wheels screech, trying to fight him, but he grits his teeth and keeps going. The entire time, he’s mindful of his surroundings; the noises could attract anything in hearing range.

 

The city beyond the dock is the same sort of wasteland he’s come to expect. Wilmington may have had some decent appeal before the outbreak, but it is long gone now. Ash resecures the bandana over his mouth and nose. He’s used to the smell, now, but it still makes his eyes water. The blood splashed on the streets is in patches, having dried who knew how long ago and only coming to life again with passing rains. The bodies, however, are likely just the way they were when they first fell.

 

The hundreds, perhaps thousands, of bodies.

 

Ash proceeds carefully, stepping lightly. The gate will likely be easy to push back into place when he needs to escape, so he knows he has that option. He takes note of every corpse, his eyes struggling to take in any sign of movement. The bodies on the asphalt are motionless. He begins his crawl into the city.

 

The problem with big cities, now, were numerous. There were tons of people that had become shamblers. There were tons of spaces for shamblers to hide in. Most of the stores on busy streets had long since been broken into, which meant finding supplies on the roads closest to the docks was unlikely. On and on...Ash had a mental list of all of the reasons, hoping beyond hope that one day the list would be long enough to forgo ever going to a city again. That day was long off, and he knew it.

 

He gets two blocks down when he finally hears one of the shamblers.

 

Immediately, Ash’s heart leaps into his throat. It doesn’t matter how many he’s encountered since fleeing he and Gary’s home ages ago. It also doesn’t matter that he’s killed a lot of them. He thinks he’ll always be afraid of them. Trying to keep calm, he freezes alongside an abandoned 7-11. The windows and doors all have bars over them, likely to deter petty thieves once upon a time. The glass behind the bars is long gone, powdered under his boots. He knows he needs to try and get inside...but he needs to figure out where the shambler is, first.

 

She is apparently ahead of him - he hasn’t seen her before now, because she’s between two utility trucks on the curb. As she slinks out from between the vehicles, her dirty hair slaps limply against her jagged shoulders. Gary would know more about her age and maybe if what she did in her previous life if he were here. He isn’t, though, and Ash doesn’t care about whatever this woman was before the outbreak. She’s a threat now, and that’s all she’s going to be. Slowly, he moves the gun up to point at her. He doesn’t want to start shooting now; if he does, it’ll be a run back to the docks with nothing to show for his troubles. He knows better than to attempt hiding somewhere in this desolate wasteland of an urban jungle.

 

He learned that lesson the hard way. Nine days they’d holed him up in some shitty Days Inn, slowly depriving him of food and water until he was desperate enough to bowl through them and leap from the roof to a nearby mechanic’s shop. It was not an experience he ever wanted to repeat. Now, the game plan was to get back to his boat if there was any trouble.

 

As he looks down the muzzle of his rifle, he hopes and prays to every deity Gary’s ever nattered on about to let the shambler turn away from him. His stomach is so empty that it hurts, and his throat can sand wood better than any power-tool can. He needs supplies.

 

‘Go away’, Ash mouths, and feels a bead of sweat run over his right eyebrow.

 

The shambler stumbles over the curb, keeling over onto the sidewalk. Ash holds his breath.

 

He’s lucky - she’s fallen in such a way that her back is to him. Ash reaches out next to himself, grasping the handle for the door. Belatedly, he panics over the possibility of the store’s alarm system still being operational. The door swings open, though, silently. Still shuddering, he backs his way inside and gently helps the door fall shut.

 

Regardless of the iron bars over the shop front, the store is a mess. It also reeks to high heaven, though it’s more of a smell of rotting dairy than rotting flesh. He finally turns from the door to look over the aisles that are still standing, but can see no shamblers stumbling through them. That doesn’t make the store safe, but it’ll do for now.

 

The funny thing about a crisis, Ash finds, is that looters will come through and grab the perishables first. Snack cakes, packages of unopened hot dogs, chilled jugs of milk and cartons of ice cream. People must think that they need the things that will expire first, that they can go back for other things later if needed. That’s at least his experience when he’s entered these stores in the past. That isn’t to say there isn’t product left to rot - he stays far away from the coolers containing the remains of the milk and egg selection. Instead, the young man pinpoints the canned goods section and carefully treads over a trail of Wonderbread growing fungus. 

 

He’s not sure what to expect when he edges into the small aisle, but Ash is relieved to see that there’s still a number of canned foods left. Things like high-sodium green beans, small cans of fruit cocktail, some cheerfully bright-red cans of mini ravioli. They aren’t the best foods to eat to stay healthy...but they  _ are _ the ones that keep the longest. After peering around to make sure he isn’t being stalked, Ash hastily peels his backpack off of his shoulders and unzips it as quietly - but quickly - as he can. As he shovels the cans carefully into his bag, his mouth does a pitiful job of watering. He wants to crack open a can of pineapple right away and slurp out the artificially sweetened juice, but he restrains himself. Food will come later, out at sea where it’s safe.

 

His bag is already half full and heavy when he finally ducks away to see about water. Water is trickier - he needs more of that than food. He might not be a book-smart person, but one of the things Gary’s said in the past that’s stuck with him is that a human body can get by much longer without food than it can without water. Bypassing the dark cases filled with soda and juice, Ash instead loads up the rest of his bag with big bottles of Deer Park. The price tag tells him the really big ones are nearly two dollars a pop - he contemplates how ridiculous that price is, and then how stupid he is for thinking about it at all. It’s not like price tags matter anymore. He could really have anything he ever wanted. 

 

Combing the store completely to find nary a body - a rarity - Ash finally gives in and sits on the edge of the counter near the register. The first trickle of water that coats his tongue makes his eyes flutter closed for a brief moment. It’s so refreshing. For the moment, in pseudo safety, he finds himself sipping his water and thinking on the price tag for it.

 

It isn’t as if he hadn’t considered joining those that chose to loot everything in sight, at first. Even after acquiring his boat and returning to shore to a quiet nightmare, Ash had thought about pillaging and taking things that no one was going to come back for. The first house he’d tried to was his last. It belonged to a very old woman and her very old cat, who were both very dead by that point. The sight of all of her family staring at him from their pictures all over her home was enough for him to never want to do it again. Generations of that family, likely all of them dead by now, deserved better than for some ratty schmuck like him rooting through their poor matriarch’s possessions. 

 

The idea of others going into the home he shared with Gary once upon a time, tearing through the life they’d built, made him sick. He wouldn’t do it to someone else. Never. If he broke into a home, he made sure it was just for food and water. Ash never broke things for fun, and he never touched what wasn’t his. 

 

That didn’t really cover why he didn’t loot some of the stores carrying things like jewelry and high-end items. He’d only had to loot a clothing store once...for clothes. Things like underwear and socks wore out fast when there was no way to wash them. He had a couple pairs of extra boots on his boat that he wore on and off, to keep them all the same amount of wear and tear. A few extra shirts, a few pairs of jeans. Jewelry stores weren’t of any use, and he didn’t want collateral if this nightmare ever ended: he just wanted the end. Living through it would be enough. Don’t take what isn’t necessary. Electronics were useless, too. Unless he could charge it through solar energy, run it on batteries or on gas, he didn’t need it.

 

Guns were different. Ash felt his rifle was his best friend in these trying times. If he was hungry, so was his gun. It needed to be fed just like he did. Bullets were worth taking if he came across them. Smaller guns, like handguns, he’d take once in a while. If he could find ammo for them, then they were his. Simple as.

 

Food, water, clothes, guns. What a simple life.

 

All those fuckers who’d told him he’d only ever be a manuel-labor sort of guy were probably dead...and he wasn’t. 

 

The vindictiveness leaves soon after it arrives. Truthfully, Ash doesn’t wish for any of them to have fallen to the outbreak. The more people who are alive, the better.

 

The empty bottle he leaves on the counter, and he takes time to fish out a pen from under the busted cash register and tears off a piece of blank register paper to leave under the bottle before he leaves.

 

_ ‘Take the rest of the canned stuff. There’s bottled water left, and you’ll need it. Maybe the Vitamin C tablets at the aisle near the door. Dunno if those expire. If you’ve got a ham radio, my frequency’s on the bottom of this paper. I’m headed to New York. Take the boats - they’re the safest. - A. Ketchum’ _

 

He hesitates, then scrawls a tiny heart at the bottom with Gary’s initials and his in it. He’s done this a few times, now; never once has someone contacted him via the radio. He doesn’t know if this is because no one’s found his notes, no one has a radio, or something else. He hopes one day his radio will crackle to life, but he knows it’s a long shot.

 

The shambler is gone when he walks out of the 7-11, and Ash’s note is the only sign that he was ever there.

 

\---

 

Despite his feelings of dread over the errand day in general, Ash gets a good five loads onto his boat before something sets off the shamblers. Five good runs - the trunk in the wheelhouse is soon chock-full of granola bars, canned food, water bottles, jerky, and ammo. There were no new handguns; he couldn’t figure out which ammo went to which, and so he didn’t bother with them. He did manage to pick up a couple of treats for himself, though: A couple small boxes of powdered lemonade and two pristine bags of giant marshmallows. Not exactly the most nutritious foods for surviving the trip to New York, but hey - Ash figures he deserves it.

 

It’s on a whim that he advances into the fire station nearby. The turnout gear is durable, and he hadn’t had time to grab his own from his town’s station while fleeing the outbreak all that time ago. It would be hot, and heavy, but useful if need be. He also checks their Rescue apparatus and finds an untouched supply of Gatorade, water, and some more cereal and granola bars. This means he has to dump the set of turnout gear he picks out into a spare bag, fastening the boots with a bike lock to it and securing the helmet straps around the thick strap. Yes. Very useful indeed. He hasn’t been lucky enough to find a fire station close to the docks of his stops until now.

 

It’s when he’s debating opening up the ambulance to get medical supplies and grabbing a couple tools from the Ladder truck that something sets off a car alarm outside.

 

Of course.

 

Ash only knows a couple practical things about what he thinks of as shamblers. He knows they can hear very well, and he knows that they will go towards noise...no matter what’s making it. When the car alarm continues to wail in panic, disturbed from what had promised to be a slow death rusting in the streets, Ash knows he has very little time. He has to weigh his options in two seconds and act in three. Shamblers only shamble when they’re not on alert. Shamblers run otherwise.

 

There are too many vehicles littering the streets to attempt driving one of the apparatuses back to the docks. Push-button starts or no, the big vehicles are useless if he cannot get them around the sea of abandoned cars, vans, and trucks in the streets. It means going on foot. It means being more exposed. 

 

He doesn’t have time to put on his new gear. For a moment, Ash finds himself caught up in a flicker of a memory from a year ago. The helmet hanging off of the duffel bag next to him says ‘chief’ over the station numbers. His leg muscles tense, preparing for a run bogged down with the weight of his goods.

 

There are three big bay doors, each tightly shut, along the front of the station. A glance through one of the small windows shows that the Mazda causing the ruckus is parked across the street in front of an old shoe store. Already, it is swarming with ragged looking shamblers. In a month’s time since the outbreak really hit full force, its victims have begun to decay into ghouls. As he watches, several more emerge from surrounding buildings. If he doesn’t leave soon, Ash will be in far more danger. He has time to perhaps snag a couple things from either the ambulance or the ladder truck, but not both.

 

In the end, despite him needing a bit of both, Ash leaves both vehicles and makes his way for the final bay door: this one is on the rear of the building, where the antique is kept. The area behind the building only has one or two shamblers roaming towards the noise. He can’t wait any longer.

 

The door next to the overhead bay door opens with a squeak, and Ash moves calmly out of the building into the sunlight. He is immediately spotted.

 

At once, his presence sets off the two or three shamblers lurking nearby. They see him and screech, lunging towards him, and Ash takes the nearest available opening to book it past them. It is a race to retrace his footsteps back to the docks before something catches up to him. The howls of the shamblers he’s left behind soon attract the attention of others who aren’t completely set on reaching the blaring car alarm. As he gets out into the street at last, there are ten more following behind him. Others are appearing from side streets.

 

A body falls from a floor far above him, hitting the pavement with a sickening series of cracks. It misses him by a hair. Ash hoists his rifle up slightly as he runs - he’ll need it soon.

 

It’s times like these where he sees just how many people were infected by The Illness. It’s easy to forget, sometimes (because he tries at points), that much of the continent has succumbed to the disease. The shock of his rifle firing shakes his body, the momentary recoil worth not having a pair of grimy hands clawing towards his arm. When tens, then hundreds of shamblers come out of the woodwork, it shows him just how far the world’s fallen. 

 

He passes the 7-11, his boots thudding over the pavement as he struggles to outrun the hoard now on his heels. They are deafening, their snarls and their squeals far cries from what they used to be. He can’t block it out, as much as he wants to, in fear of losing track of the countless creatures all around him. 

 

He’s insanely grateful when the huge gate of the docks comes into view. It gives him an extra rush of adrenaline - he sprints to it, reaching out a hand to grab onto the edge and shove it back along its track. It’s only a second where he’s standing still, before he slips through the gate to the other side, and in that time he feels fingers graze his back.

 

Then he’s through, and the gate forcibly slams shut behind him. It won’t be long before the sheer number of shamblers on the other side force it open again, though, and Ash races along the wooden platforms to the salvation of his vessel. There’s time to grab up a couple of his pikes, one of his traps, and then he hears the awful scream of metal bending and grinding.

 

His bags hit the bottom of the boat. He all but throws his rifle from him, letting it fall with a thump onto the seat at the back of the boat. His hands feverishly work at the knot connecting the boat to the dock - Briana the Second groans as he kicks at the wood of the dock to push the boat away. A snarl from off in the distance catches his attention; as Ash and his vessel drift to a safe distance away, he sees the gate to the docks bend and then give way to a flood of rotting flesh. They were people once, he tells himself, unable to step away. He won’t, so long as they’re there. He won’t feel safe trying to start the boat and gun the engine for another ten minutes. He drifts, and the shamblers race along the dock. Some of them impale themselves on his remaining pikes - others fall victim to his bear traps. A little boy in overalls, perhaps maybe about four, catches on one of the pikes and continues to roar and make awful gurgling noises of rage as it stares at the fleeing boat. Dozens of them fall into the water, never to be seen again. They can’t swim, they can only thrash, and thus he’s safe.

 

The engine purrs to life a few minutes later, and Ash steers his vessel away from Wilmington. He hopes he never sees it again.

 

\---

 

The small, solar powered lantern isn’t really needed, that night. The moon glows peacefully overhead, illuminating the small crests on the water as well as the boat sitting quietly in them.

 

Ash has tallied up his supplies and figures that he should be fine for the next couple of weeks out at sea. He’s had his can of pineapple and celebrated with a couple marshmallows. It’s all so sweet - it reminds him of better times.

 

Anchored for the night, he spends a few moments gently checking over his rifle for damage. Other than the blood that he cleans with a rag, there’s nothing to be concerned over. He places the gun on the back seat, clipping a seat belt through its cloth strap to make sure it doesn’t fall off the boat somehow. It’s a dumb idea, but he won’t take any chances. It leaves him and the moon. Him, Buddy the toy rat, Briana II, and Gary’s little toy dog.

 

With a grunt, the man heaves himself up to his feet and enters the wheel house. The radio has played nothing but quiet static all night. Sinking into the small chair bolted to the deck, he places one part of the bulky headphones to his ear as he cycles through the stations.

 

“This is Briana II, New York bound. Ash Ketchum, looking for other survivors. Frequency is--”

 

Over and over and over…

 

No response.

 

Reluctantly, he heads back to his own channel and sits in silence. After a few minutes, he begins:

 

“...Hit up Wilmington for supplies. Had a good run. Got some new turnout gear, some food, some water. Don’t stay on the main road if you come by boat.” He rasps, softly. After a moment, he adds: “The gate’s busted. Something set off a fucking car alarm and I had to leg it back to Briana. They all came after me. I’m all right.”

 

He goes on to describe locations as best he can, citing where supplies can be found for those interested and hazards to watch out for. He talks about where he left his note. Ash tries to talk as much as possible in order to help anyone out there who might be listening...even if he’s sure no one is.

 

At last, he exhausts himself on information. He’s left with the static, his eyes gazing off into the distance. The ocean looks like the edge of the world, and here he is sailing upon it.

 

“...I remember my first fire. I was...sixteen, I think. Could’ve been fifteen.” He murmurs into the mic. “Fresh out of training. Yellow hat, big ol’ orange patch on the front. I remember hanging out with Brock, sitting on the front of the Rescue talking about some accident that happened the day before. Here comes the siren...I remember that feeling. It was like a rush. ‘This is it’, I thought, ‘I’m gonna be a real fireman’. Like dad was.”

 

“I put my gloves on the wrong hands. I had to fix’em while we were riding to the scene. Nice little kitchen fire in a ranch house, nothing big. I looked at that fire and it was suddenly ten times bigger. They didn’t even have me go in. I ran hoses for that fire. It was still a big deal.”

 

“And Gary…” He chuckles, hoarsely. “...God damn. I get back to the station and there he is, waiting in his fucking stupid Camaro. He told me to walk back to my mom’s. ‘No fucking way are you sitting in MY car smelling like that!’. What a jackass.”

 

Ash falls silent, the grin still faintly on his face and splitting his chapped lips in several places. He can hear the motor in Gary’s car running even now. He can see the sneer on his face. The smell of smoke lingering on his own clothes, the tingles of leftover adrenaline that made his skin feel like it was about to vibrate off his body.

 

“I think that was the first time I kissed him.”

 

He remembers feeling the Camaro’s engine idling beneath him, fueling teenage fires. He remembers being so quiet for the entire ride that Gary finally pulled over to a Shell and asked him who died. The way they held hands. They’d been holding hands for a couple weeks by then. He remembers the surge of excitement finally bubbling over and the way he grabbed Gary’s face and pulled him in for the lip-lock of the century.

 

And he remembers the shell-shocked look on Gary’s face when they broke apart, the streaks of soot on his cheeks from where Ash had grabbed him, the way his lips were slightly parted in surprise and his eyes...all lit up and bright with interest.

 

“God...he was so fucking beautiful.”

 

He lingers in silence, replaying the moment over and over as the static whispers into his ears. At last, he clicks on the button for the mic one last time. “...If you get this...and God, I hope somehow you are...I’m comin’ to get you, baby. I promise, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna find you and hold you one more time.” He licks his lips, wincing as his tongue brushes over the raw skin in the cracks. “...Ash Ketchum, signing off.”

 

He leaves the radio on, as he usually does. The white noise blends with the gentle lapping of the ocean waves against his boat. When he lays down on his back, staring up at the starry sky, he thinks about that moment several years before. A simpler time, living with his mother and worrying about passing high-school classes. Gary on his Cinderella license, using any and every excuse to drive his stupid sports car. An awkward start to their relationship, full of tentative touches and messy kisses. 

 

He hasn’t heard music in a good, long while, but he closes his eyes and pretends to hear the song he’d heard playing in Gary’s car that day in the Shell parking lot.

 

Ash is thankful that when he sleeps, he generally dreams of better days.

 

\---

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Global Decay' is still fairly new and I would like to add more to it in the near future.


	4. Where The Dark Goes - 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Where The Dark Goes' is a Stranger Things inspired story where Ash and Co. deal with a strange creature seemingly from another dimension, set in Delaware in the early 90s.
> 
> This story is set in Delaware, USA, in the early 90s. There is a bit of gore in the beginning. Characters are all their canon ages.

_ A shameless Stranger Things AU. _

 

_ \--- _

 

**November 12th, 1992 - Delaware City, Delaware**

 

On a fairly warm Thursday - it hit the very low seventies, teasing wisps of summer long gone - the sun had gone down. Grey clouds had hovered ominously overhead most of the day, their contents only sprinkling intermittently. The farmers in the surrounding area, stopping through for a bite to eat at La Matesina before heading home, seemed to think the rain would fall late into the night and long after the last couple drunks stumbled home from Kathy’s. The streets were empty - the humidity was too thick, far too thick for a November evening. The kids that were typically out roaming had retreated indoors, grateful for the dry air it promised.

 

“--don’t put the bomb there, stupid!”

 

“I’m not STUPID, it does SO go there!”

 

In a small ranch house, down in the barely-finished basement, four such children were crowded around an old dial-knob television. The one holding the controller was nudged rather forcefully by the boy on his left, and he instinctively held the controller away from his aggressor. “It’s MY turn, Gary--” Glancing upwards briefly, he lowered his voice and whispered: “shithead.” to finish off his sentence.

 

The other boy - Gary - threw his head back with an exaggerated groan. “You can’t play it worth shit, though!” He whined.

 

“You were the one who got killed on the first two screens.” Injured, the whining boy peered around the player at the red-headed girl who sneered back at him. “And stop cussing so loud, you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

 

“Fuck you.” Was the immediate reply.

 

The boy between them gave a sharp squeak of indignation as the girl attempted to climb over him in her haste to maim the smirking Gary. The screen began to flash, then, and all three peered at it as the poor pixelated hero died. The controller hit the carpet with a muffled clatter as its user howled in despair. “You guys…!”

 

“Oops.” The girl had the good grace to mumble, before she lunged down at the free controller - she had noticed Gary grabbing for it, and was too late. “It’s not your turn, you turd!”

 

“It is now. You snooze, you lose!” He crowed in return, only to be dogpiled by both angry children.

 

As the controller lay forgotten, the fourth child casually picked it up and began to start up the game again. All three of the other children began whining and pleading, but he said nothing until he managed to get the character on screen to bomb the correct wall. “You weren’t too far off.” His mouth curled up into a genuine smile, even as his friends pouted beside him. “Misty gets to go next.”

 

“You’re just saying that because she’s a girl.” Gary accused, sneering and then flinching as the girl in question made to slap at him.

 

The new player rolled his eyes, and the children gradually settled down to watch his progress. Only seconds later, though, the door to the basement opened up. “Ash, honey! It’s a school night, tell your friends good night!”

 

A chorus of moans met the woman’s demand, and she sighed. “Now, please. Your families need you home!” She tacked on, tapping her foot lightly on the landing.

 

“Pft...yeah right.”

 

“I heard that, Gary Oak - your grandpa said no more sleeping over on school nights.” In a slightly sweeter tone, she added on: “You can come over again tomorrow, everyone.”

 

With that, she left and her footsteps could be heard padding softly through the kitchen beyond the door. Her son - the original player - watched as his friends reluctantly got up and collected their things. “You don’t have to wind it up, Brock, I’ll get it.” He murmured, reaching for the controller that his friend was indeed attempting to stow away in the small cabinet under the huge television. 

 

“We got into the next dungeon, at least.” Brock replied, rolling his shoulders. He was easily the tallest of the three of them, with distinctly Asian features and short, dark colored hair. “Maybe next time we can finish it.”

 

“I hope so. I’m so sick of Zelda.” Misty grumbled. She unzipped her backpack and withdrew her jacket, shrugging it on. She’d also hit some sort of growth spurt and stood a bit taller than either Ash or Gary; she was scrawny and scuffed up. There were band aids covering her hands from where she’d thrust them into a sticker bush the day before, and dirt on her nose that masked some of her many freckles. 

 

The pair headed up first, leaving Ash to finish putting up his aging console and Gary to find his other combat boot. “It’s still better then Milon’s Secret Castle!” The auburn-haired boy shot at Misty’s retreating back, tossing aside one of the quilts on the floor to uncover the missing, tan boot. “That thing was a piece of crap.”

 

Misty’s ears burned. She turned on the stairs, clenching her fists. “At least we only rented it for the weekend! I’m not putting more pocket money into Zelda.”

 

All three boys winced. They’d all four been putting an equal share of their allowances in to rent a game from the store in Middletown every week for the past year. Without Misty’s share, they wouldn’t be able to afford it. It had been a month that they’d been attempting to beat The Legend of Zelda, with stuttering progress. Shuffling awkwardly, the three remaining children looked at one another. Ash finally huffed. “We’ve only got it a few more days. We’ll beat it by then!”

 

“Not with you getting first turn, we’re not.” Came Gary’s voice from the couch. Ash tossed a pillow from near his feet, smacking the auburn-haired boy in the side of the head. “Ow--!”

 

“That didn’t hurt, don’t be a baby.”

 

“The only ‘baby’ around here is you - you play worse than Brock’s baby sister.”

 

“Aw, come on, don’t bring them into this.” Brock pleaded, only to watch as the two shorter boys began attempting to wrestle one another into submission. “Cut it out, your mom’s gonna get mad, Ash.”

 

Sure enough, the woman’s rapid footsteps came close to the basement door. Gary and Ash sprang apart and did their best to look as innocent as possible. “Come on, now, please.” The brunette pulled the door open further - she looked tired, and perhaps a bit fed up with their collective dawdling. “School night. Hurry - it’s going to rain soon.”

 

Brock and Misty hastily finished working their way up the stairs, ducking under the woman’s arm. She peered questioningly down at her son and his remaining friend, her expression reading ‘five seconds young man’. Gary was bent over, lacing up his boot, and he tied it off in a sloppy knot at the top before standing. “Gary, honey, you’re going to trip yourself…” Ash’s mother sighed, watching as he promptly did almost exactly that.

 

“‘M fine, Ms. K.” He called back, snatching his bag up from the floor. The pendant around his neck bounced on his chest, the colored enamel catching the static of the television before Ash shut it off. His boots clomped up the stairs, Ash’s stocking feet in pursuit, and both of them nearly fell on the kitchen floor while pushing at one another. Before Ash’s mother could scold them, they both took off into the garage. “Night Ms. K.!”

 

“Tie your shoes better, you’re going to break your neck on that skateboard!”

 

The woman’s warning went unheeded. Both boys joined Misty and Brock in the garage - Brock was waiting patiently next to a bike that’d seen better days, and Misty was carefully setting the last velcro strap of her inline skates into place. There was a clatter as Gary grabbed for a skateboard propped up on the wall beside the door, sliding it out along the floor a ways before jumping onto it. His boot laces fluttered dangerously close to the wheels. “Mom’s right, you’re gonna bust up your whole face.” Ash warned him, hastily slipping his feet into his sneakers. 

 

The skateboard slid slowly to a stop, a booted foot coming to rest on the damp asphalt of the driveway. Gary peered over his shoulder, scowling and tutting. “Whatever. Since when’ve I  _ ever _ bailed that bad? Go on, tell me.”

 

The answer - to Ash’s knowledge - was ‘never’. He pouted silently instead of saying it aloud and tried not to think of the urge he had to punch his ‘friend’ in the face when Gary sneered at him. 

 

“You ARE going to, though.” The sneer vanished, replaced with a Warheads-sour level expression. Misty didn’t bother to take it back. Her skates made soft skittering noises as she made her way past Gary, gracefully pivoting in a half circle to face him. “You’re not 100% cool all the time.”

 

“Eat shit, I am so.”

 

From the open doorway behind them, Ash’s mother made an indignant noise before calling out: “Go HOME, Gary! Don’t make me call your grandfather!”

 

The boy in question grumbled as the other three children shared a small laugh at his expense. Misty lightly patted at his shoulder and didn’t seem bothered when he jerked away from her hand. She merely raised it to wave at the others before turning and gliding down the driveway. “See ya in the morning!”

 

Brock’s bike followed along. Halfway down the driveway, he finally swung one his legs over the seat and began to pedal the rest of the way. “Night!” He called behind him, swerving at the last second to miss the mailbox. He was lucky: only last week, he’d struck it head on and his friends had  _ still _ pestered him up until now about his lack of direction.

 

Ash waved to each of them, stuffing his hands hurriedly into his jeans pockets. A breeze raced through, kicking up fallen leaves and raising goosebumps on his exposed arms. So much for the strangely warm weather. 

 

“Hey.”

 

Only when Gary spoke up did Ash realize his friend was still there. “What?” He questioned, glancing back at the road to watch Misty and Brock appear and disappear under the light of the streetlamps. 

 

“I know how we can finish the game before we have to give it back.” Was the response. When Ash narrowed his eyes suspiciously, Gary just shrugged. “But we need to cheat.”

 

Ash immediately hunched a little, partially from the chill in the air and partially from unease over the idea. “You always wanna cheat, Gary…”

 

“Do you wanna beat the game, or not? There’s like...five dungeons to go. We’re not gonna beat them all before Sunday unless we use codes.” He fell silent as Ash’s mother called for him to come in - ‘Coming, mom!’ - and lowered his voice a little to continue. “There’s one that makes you invincible. So we’re not breaking the game or anything…”

 

“But that’s not how you’re supposed to play it!” Argued the other boy, kicking at a stray leaf that had blown over towards his shoes. 

 

Gary heaved a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes. His foot absently rolled the skateboard back and forth. “Okay, well, Misty’s not gonna put in her money if we try and rent it again, so good luck not knowing how it ends.” Ash didn’t budge, and Gary finally put his other foot down on the board again - it began to inch its way down along the driveway. “Bring the game with you tomorrow - we’re gonna play at my house after school!” He called, hopping the board over the edge of the driveway and making his way down the street. “Smell ya later!”

 

Despite their argument Ash waved to him, too, before turning and starting back inside. The first couple drops of rain were coming down; he took some small satisfaction out of the fact that Gary’d be soaked before making it home.

 

The garage door began to slowly make its way down. There was no ominous thunder, no sinister lightning - just the wind lazily going through as the rain began to fall.

 

There was nothing to suggest that something terrible - something downright  _ terrifying _ \- was about to happen.

 

\---

 

The streets were still empty and devoid of life as the rain began to come down.

 

“Shit.” Gary growled to himself. His entire bag was going to be soaking wet by the time he got back, and where was his umbrella? At school, in his locker. Tucking his chin down into his chest, he pushed one foot off the road harshly and hastily planted it back on his board. It moved with his body perfectly - It was a few months old, not by any means new, and by now he knew every inch of it and how it felt under his feet. It was probably not a good idea to ride it in the rain, though, regardless of how broken in the wheels were. He could feel the amount of traction slowly slipping away as he rode on and the rain picked up pace. “Shit, shit,  _ shit _ .”

 

He took a sharp turn, crouching down with his fingertips nearly kissing the asphalt. The main street - darkened shop fronts on one side, the ferry port and the park on the other - was only slightly more lively. A beat up Cadillac came close to brushing his left arm, the driver shadowed by the night; Gary swore at him. There was no point in attempting to ride on the bumpy, eroded sidewalks. He would have to risk the street and hope anyone driving on it wasn’t too drunk to not see him.

 

The park was well lit. Knowing that it would be impossible to traipse over the bridge so late in the rain, the boy caved. His skateboard slid to a stop at the curb, and he hurriedly picked it up and carried it under his arm as he ran to the gazebo in the middle of the park...the only shelter to be had. 

 

Shaking out a sopping-wet hand, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a bulky cell phone. Even staring at it (squinting, more like), the boy could hear his grandfather’s nagging voice in the back of his mind. He hesitated. One of his thumbs hovered over the green handset button, ready to push down and dial in one of the only numbers he was allowed to have in the phone at all. Gary wasn’t supposed to use the stupid thing: the last time he’d pulled it out to call Ash, his grandfather had read him the riot act once he’d gotten home. Phones were expensive. They weren’t toys.

 

This wasn’t the sort of situation where he’d get in trouble, he was sure, but the stern lecture still burned on the back of his neck.

 

_ ‘You call me if you absolutely, desperately NEED to, Garrison. No calls for pizza, don’t call your friends just to chit-chat, and do NOT use the internet AT. ALL. Emergencies. Understood?’ _

 

“Whatever.” He mumbled; he could feel his lips start quivering as the cold air wrapped around his wet frame. He shoved the phone back into his pocket in irritation. “Probably wouldn’a picked up anyway…”

 

He hated that he knew the old man well enough to know what would come of his attempt to call. He hated WHAT would come of a call: nothing. Nothing until tomorrow, when the old asshole would grill him on just  _ why _ he’d called so late on a  _ school night _ when he was SUPPOSED to have already been home.

 

It wasn’t worth the hassle, even if he was soaked and cold and even if the way home would be pitch black.

 

At the very least, he could hope one of the local cops was out on patrol and would see him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d hitched a ride from the police before, probably wouldn’t be the last. He fit the role of every delinquent ever, with his taped up combat boots and his undercut hair. He even had a little rat-tail at the nape of his neck that was getting long enough to ruffle dear Grandpa Oak’s feathers a bit too much. Skateboarding around and cussing up a storm didn’t really help his image, either. By all accounts, he should’ve felt right at home in the back of a squad car.

 

Gary really hated getting rides from cops. The last one had baby-talked him - she probably meant well, but it was degrading all the same. The last thing he wanted while he was being ferried by the police was to be talked to like--

 

A flash of light off in the distance caught his attention - his eyes slid back into focus and darted around the landscape ahead to pinpoint where it had come from. There were no boats out that late at night, and the same small pinpricks of light from buoys and wooden pylons out in the water were all that drew his attention. But something...there had been  _ something _ , no doubt. His mind immediately jumped to ‘lightning’, and a prickle of fear from his younger days danced over his spine. Storms didn’t frighten him anymore - he was too ‘cool’ for that - but…

 

\--...There it was again!

 

His wet shirt sleeves flopped like giant soggy, wet noodles as he shook them back off of his hands. Carefully, he leaned against the railing of the gazebo with his fingers gripping tightly to the aged wood. Paint chips dug into the soft flesh of his palms, but his attention was elsewhere...far out on the water, in fact.

 

In the dark, it was hard to see Pea Patch Island. If he squinted, he could make out the outline of the small land mass and - with the right amount of squinting - could see the walls of old Fort Delaware. Kids around town liked to spread the age-old rumor that the fort was haunted, a story with varying details passed down from generation to generation. There was no real proof that it was. Even if he scoffed at the ghost stories while being taken on tour there, it was good for a chill just to peer down one of the chained-off stairwells into the dark and hear the strange noises that came up from below. Gary’s grandfather had long since told him that the rumors were just made-up stories and that the noises came from water outside of the building - he had stopped being scared of it long ago.

 

But he watched light flash from the windows there - small slits in the old stones - and suddenly felt the sort of tightening in his throat that he felt upon being faced with a wasp, or perhaps from running as fast as he could up the stairs at night after turning off the light.

 

It wasn’t quite fear, but the foreboding feeling that while something bad probably  _ wouldn’t _ happen, it still  _ could _ . That the wasp would probably buzz off, but just might sting him when he took his eyes off of it. That the house was probably safe and sound, but that something still might lurk in the shadows and chase him up the stairs.

 

There was just something weird and off about those freaky lights coming from Fort Delaware. The phone suddenly seemed to weigh twice as much in his pocket, and he got the overwhelming urge to say ‘fuck it’ and call his grandfather to come pick him up. Each second that ticked by - now in darkness, the flashing light now gone once more - felt like too much time slipping away. He wanted to run. He wanted to leg it as fast as he could somewhere,  _ anywhere _ , so long as he wasn’t alone when he got there. If he hurried, he could show back up at Ash’s front door and tell his friend’s mother that the road back was flooded. Even if she wouldn’t let him stay, she’d drive him home. 

 

When Gary swallowed, it felt like a mouthful of sandpaper. He didn’t want to walk the bridge alone. He didn’t want to be alone at all.

 

‘Pull it together!’ He tried to tell himself, ‘It’s just some lights! Probably some late-night tour or something.’ It made him feel better because, yes, that was exactly what it could be. Ghost hunting was slowly becoming more popular, and the town was using it to their advantage. The idea of a bunch of slack-jawed tourists huddled in the dark, damp fort trying to convince one another that they were hearing ‘ghosts’ made Gary even smirk.

 

Then the wave came.

 

A good, loud ‘thud’ rumbled under his feet for a brief second, followed by more sickly light from the rotting fort. Gary clutched onto the railing, hissing as a good-sized splinter punctured the fleshy bit of his hand between his thumb and his pointer finger. In the light, though, he saw the wave coming. It was perhaps ordinary if one was out on a beach...but coming towards the shore, towards the town,  _ against the current _ , made his heart rocket into his throat. “What the fuck…?” He heard himself breathe out, seconds before the next flash came and illuminated the wave again - he felt a scream in his throat. The wood creaked dangerously as he pushed away from it, snatching up his skateboard and launching himself off of the gazebo floor. The wave was halfway across the canal, but he didn’t turn back to see what would happen when it hit the retaining wall marking the edge of the park. His feet thudded heavily across the grass, slapping against the brickwork of the sidewalks as he legged it into the street.

 

There had been something inside that wave. Some... _ thing _ . He had seen it. Gary Oak had only ever been this terrified once before, when he was only three and had still not spoken about the image that had frightened him so.

 

His skateboard hit the ground and his boots pounced on it. “Go go go go go, fuck…!” He shouted into the rain. Terror balled itself up in his chest. As he neared the end of the park, he heard the wave finally make contact with the wall. A solid, hard noise. It made him push the board faster. It was just like being at home in the dark, rushing up the stairs to the safety of the second floor landing and its light...except that second floor landing was far away and there really  _ was _ something behind him.

 

He neared the traffic light - the only one in town - and felt himself slow. He was already winded, the distance he’d pushed his board equating to a long sprint. His mind briefly flitted to the rational idea of perhaps seeing seaweed in the wave instead of some... _ thing _ , and he began to feel stupid. Panting, Gary shook his head as his board slid to a stop. His heart screamed for him not to turn around as he did so, his brain forcing him to face his childish fear.

 

There was a thing in the street. A great, slimey,  _ thing _ hovering over the ground and staring at him with eyes that glowed like car headlights. A thing that was still coming towards him, perhaps only a block away.

 

Gary only barely managed to avoid tripping off the curb in his blind haste to get away. He might have peed himself - he couldn’t know for sure and the rain kept his secret for him. The bridge loomed ahead as he turned the corner. In the dark, it was an impossible mountain for his skateboard to traverse: he couldn’t hope to roll the board up the steep slope. With a harsh shove, he pushed the board out from under his feet and started running over the road again. In the light of the last streetlamp on the road, he grabbed it up and continued to run towards the foot of the bridge. There were no signs of headlights in the distance: the bridge was deserted.

 

Even as his heart sank, he refused to slow down. Behind him, the streetlamp guttered before the bulb glowed brightly and shattered - bits of glass sprayed at his retreating back. What followed was a warning groan of metal and a tremendous crash as the entire lamp was sent sprawling across the road. It only spurned the boy to run faster up the bridge.

 

Reedy Point Bridge had long since done away with the lights that had once lit the way from Delaware City to Port Penn. The only remaining lights were the red and green ones that let aircraft know where the top of the bridge was. It was unnerving to drive over past dark - it was downright terrifying on foot, with or without some horrid  _ thing _ chasing the unfortunate traveler. The sharp incline was already wearing on the boy’s legs, his breathing coming in sharp and ragged. Gary pressed on. If he could make it to the crest…

 

A low snarl came from behind him, from perhaps only a few feet away. He bit back a frightened moan and kept running; wind whipped his hair into his face the further up he climbed, made the structure of the bridge creak and groan beneath him. One harsh gust near the top slammed him up against the concrete barrier and made him holler out into the open air. Sniffling - cold, frightened, and desperate - he was briefly illuminated in the pulsing red light of the aircraft warning light overhead. His free hand reached out and he curled his fingers in the chain link fence that started only a couple feet back. Knowing he shouldn’t, but unable to stop himself, he turned around with a whimper as the red glow winked out.

 

Against the backdrop of the town below, he could see it. It was only a few feet away, then, grotesque and twisted feet only barely brushing the sidewalk as it drifted closer. Its eyes weren’t glowing then like they had been before, but the corners of them held a sort of very faint luminescence. It wasn’t human, by any means, but its features weren’t placeable in any sort of animal species Gary knew of. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at. ‘A monster,’ his brain supplied, ‘an alien.’ He was petrified in place, clutching the chain link fence and his skateboard for dear life as the creature drifted closer. 

 

It uttered a gurgled, sickly sounding hiss at him, the glow around the edges of its eyes brightening - Gary snapped out of his horrified stupor and turned away as it screeched at him. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” He screamed back, yanking away from the fence and sprinting towards the downward slope of the bridge. The creature answered him with another howl, and light from its eyes began to illuminate the road before the boy. It was right at his back: he only had one chance, and the window of time he had to take it was rapidly closing.

 

The skateboard clattered to the sidewalk and began to roll downhill immediately. Gary, using the combined light of the bridge and the monster behind him, leaped onto the board immediately and gave one great shove off the sidewalk with one of his feet. The momentum had him flying down the bridge and increasing the distance between he and the unknown creature significantly. The rain storm’s wind and water battered him harshly on his way down, threatening to sweep the board out from under his feet...or him off the bridge entirely. It was difficult on a normal day to control his descent, but it was nothing compared to what he faced then.

 

Another blood-curdling cry rent the air behind him, but it was farther away. It still sent a line of chills up the boy’s back and made him feel sick to his stomach with fear, but at least there was a slight tingle of relief. The end of the bridge was coming quickly, and beyond that was a long and dark stretch of road through the marsh. He’d be home then. Safe. He could only hope the road wasn’t flooded out. Still, it was hope.

 

He hadn’t turned around to shout a snarky, witty remark at the creature while nearing the end of the slope. He hadn’t even laughed or smiled - Gary was simply focused on the road ahead and nothing else besides continuing to flee. He perhaps didn’t deserve to have his loosely tied boot lace slip neatly under his board, catching under the thick plastic wheels of his skateboard and upending both it and himself onto the pavement. The moment he felt the first bit of the wrenching tug, he knew his chances of escape had hit rock bottom. His board sailed off into the dark, and Gary felt a split second of weightlessness before his entire face struck the unforgiving asphalt. White light exploded behind his eyelids, and his nose began to pour blood - pain didn’t register right away. He’d had the wind knocked right out of him and he struggled to remember how his lungs worked while bewilderedly attempting to recall what had just happened.

 

Gasping, wheezing, the boy trembled as he gingerly eased himself onto his hands and knees. He was rapidly becoming aware that much of his body was in agony from his fall - one scrapped up palm pressed to his mouth to find that his teeth had cut clean through his bottom lip and that the offending tooth in question was chipped. Blood oozed from his mouth and the strong taste of copper was overpowering. Part of his forehead stung and burned as raindrops slapped it. There was no sign of his skateboard: the night had swallowed it whole, and him along with it. 

 

There was a deep, heavy breath against the back of his neck.

 

It was too late to attempt to crawl away. Gary tried to anyway, scrambling up as fast as he could but only getting a few steps away before being caught in a full blast of lights from behind. It took him by surprise - briefly, he was able to see the ragged skin on his hands before he turned around to shield himself. He screamed as it wailed at him, falling into hysterics as cruel morality came to collect him.

 

“Jesus Christ, kid!”

 

The wailing continued at a different pitch, falling from a warning wail to something soft and shuddering - it took him a moment to realize that it was now himself he heard and that the first sound had been the car that was sitting directly in front of him. A figure was approaching from around the side of it swiftly, and Gary instinctively tried to back away before the being - a human being, thankfully - held up their hands. “Take it easy.” It was a familiar voice, a woman’s, but the boy couldn’t make himself calm down. “--Gary? What’s wrong, honey? Oh Jesus- Did you fall? Your face…Hey!” The woman turned, sticking her head back into her car, “Radio the station and tell them to call Sam Oak - this is his kid, he’s all busted up.”

 

Cops. Gary’d never been so relieved to figure out that it was a police cruiser facing him down. He still felt the hair on the back of his neck prickling and twisted this-way and that for some sign of the odd monster that had only seconds before been close to...to…

 

...it didn’t matter what it would have done: he couldn’t see it anywhere around. He’d been hoping that perhaps the car had struck it, but there was no sign of any creature. It had vanished.

 

Which meant it could still be out there, somewhere.

 

He was still staring off into the blackness of the marsh beyond the road when a hand settled on his shoulder - Gary fought, renewing his frightened screams until the officer clamped both hands down onto his forearms and shook him. “Hey!” It was practically bellowed right into his face, cutting off his own yelling. Softly, the woman spoke again. “Hey. You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you - you know me. Right? We’re buddies!” They were  _ not _ buddies, but any snark he might have possessed had fled along with the nightmare that had chased him across the bridge. He couldn’t get his throat to unstick long enough to do anything but whimper. The woman’s eyes took in his entire face, her brows furrowing the longer he went without replying. “...Sweetheart? It’s just a tumble, you’ll be all right.”

 

“Found the board!” Her partner called, coming out of the darkness with a flashlight in one hand and the board in the other. Gary wouldn’t have paid it any attention had he not caught a brief flicker of movement as the beam of light swung out over the marsh. He started to thrash once again, wanting to flee. “What’s wrong with him…?”

 

Unimpressed with her partner’s callousness, the woman threw him a withering look before turning back to the terrified child. “Gary-- honey, that’s enough, you’re all right!” A burst of static came from the car, and she watched the other officer lean into the vehicle to listen. Gary heard them exchange words about what had been transmitted, but his eyes could only focus on the then-dark area over the guardrail where he’d thought he’d seen the creature lurking. “...Let’s just put him in the car and get him back to the station. We have to clean him up - he’s a mess and the old man isn’t usually home yet anyway.”

 

He didn’t take his eyes off of the spot until long after he was seated in the back of the cruiser. Even once the car turned on its rotating red and blue lights and revealed that the marsh was devoid of any horrid  _ things _ , he didn’t stop staring until they were on their way back over the bridge. Gary Oak didn’t say a single word.

 

\---

 

“And you’re sure that’s what happened?”

 

The voice came through the speaker sounding grainy and soft. On the other side of the glass, the investigator sat with his back a mere two feet from the next room, and yet one had to strain to hear him. Or, perhaps, just Samuel had to. The man was elderly, and he wasn’t prideful enough to ignore that his senses were slowly trickling away from him day by day. Thankfully, he could easily see what the person seated on the other side of the table did in response: a simple nod. The old man rubbed at his forehead and heaved a sharp sigh.

 

The door on the other side of the glass opened - both occupants looked up as Jenny stuck her head in, murmuring something Samuel’s aging ears couldn’t catch before leaving the room again. “Your grandfather’s here, son.” The boy at the other end of the table showed immense relief and barely allowed the man to ask him if he wanted to leave before standing.

 

“What do you make of it, Sam?”

 

Samuel snorted, shaking his head minutely. “I think he’s a child,” He rasped, tiredly, “and that he’s got an overactive imagination...I blame those video games.” 

 

The man beside him hummed in amusement. As they watched the boy and the investigator exit the other room, he spoke up again. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that riled up. He sure seemed convinced.”

 

“Looker, do me a favor:” The old man turned to stare directly at the other, frowning as opposed to the smile the other man wore, “don’t feed into a little boy’s silly fantasies. Especially not my grandson’s.”

 

They were both old, really. The years had been kinder to the officer - he had escaped his forties with only a little bit of salt in his pepper hair - but the age was in his eyes. Samuel looked the part of an old man, his hair disheveled and nearly entirely white. He blamed the rapid onset of age on the boy exiting the other room. Sam often accused Looker of escaping time by not marrying; Looker wisely never argued.

 

The younger man shrugged, crossing his arms. “You have to admit, that’s not typical behavior.” He murmured, “I’ve seen him angry, I’ve seen him maybe a bit spooked, but this--”

 

“He stayed out on a school night and tried to get home as fast as he could so I wouldn’t hear about it.” Irritated, Sam turned on heel to pick up his jacket. Snatching it off the chair it was draped on, he glanced back at the officer. “He fell after riding at a breakneck speed down the damn bridge, panicked when you all found him, and tried to come up with something to keep me from grounding him. Monster indeed…”

 

“Sam, go easy on the kid.”

 

A sharp ‘hmph!’ exited the old man’s throat. His coat zipped up, and he briskly made his way to the door. “I’m happy that he’s all right. I’m not a complete stick in the mud. I just would prefer my grandson not make a complete ass of himself on a regular basis.”

 

If Looker had anything to add, he didn’t get a chance before Samuel pulled open the door and stepped out into the hall. It was quiet in the precinct; Delaware City rarely saw much that needed all hands on deck in the police department, and it was a late Thursday night. Anyone being brought in that night would have to be an unlucky drunk...or, in Samuel’s case, a boy out way past his bedtime who’d taken a rough fall and was spewing nonsense LIKE a drunk. 

 

Jenny was just down the hall, talking to the man who’d interrogated said drunk-sounding boy in hushed whispers. Samuel pretended not to notice that they stopped immediately once he saw them. The woman offered him a small smile that he was familiar with: she often gave it to him when she had to deliver the boy home to him. It was a look that said that she was fine with helping, but wished the old man would do more. Sam ignored that, too. “He’ll be alright.” The door closed with a soft click behind her as she stepped out into the hall. Reluctantly, the tired Samuel stopped and acknowledged her need to converse with him. “Probably needs to see a dentist tomorrow about that tooth. Jeff was in for a little bit, he checked him over and it looks like he got away without a concussion. Keep an eye on him.” That was far from friendly advice - from Jenny, it was a threat. 

 

Sam was too exhausted to deal with her condescending barbs masked as concern. “I’m a doctor, Jenny.” He deadpanned, watching as her eyebrows began to pinch inward. “And he’s my boy. One of these days, you’re going to have to stop implying what I know you’re implying.”

 

“You’re not worried at all about this?” As he began to protest, the officer held up a hand. “Drop dead terrified of some monster? Even if he exaggerated, that’s not something you can ignore.”

 

“‘If’ he exaggerated? Jennifer, he’s a  _ child _ \--”

 

“A child who’s never been that petrified before.” Jenny pressed, brushing a lock of black hair away from her face. In the harsh florescent lighting, it looked almost deep blue; young people these days and dyeing their hair. “Something was chasing him. Maybe it was one of the older kids. Maybe a drunk. Hell, you’ve heard the rumors about the cougar--”

 

“It wasn’t any damn cougar, or anything for that matter. Cougar my ass, Jenny - you know damn well there hasn’t been a fucking cougar in Delaware for decades. For Christ’s sake…” He ran a hand through his hair, breathing out harshly through his nose. Jenny crossed her arms and leaned back against the door; properly chastened, she sulked. Despite his annoyance, Sam knew her heart was in the right place and relented. “...Not a drunk, either. No drunk worth his salt would chase a boy all the way through the dark onto that bridge. Maybe the bit about an older child is worth looking into...but I think you’re putting way too much faith in the mind of a boy his age.”

 

This did not pacify her (not that he’d counted on it doing so). She straightened, her lips set in a firm line and her gaze hard as if trying to pierce him. “And maybe you’re not putting in enough.” 

 

Samuel let her storm off. Their talks typically ended this way - it was no secret that Jenny had some sort of personal mission in regards to the Oaks. She had taken a stake in things early on and seemed to think the elder man’s guardianship left much to be desired. HE thought she was an uppity, cocky officer who had way too much time to ponder things she shouldn’t have. They rarely agreed on things. It was perhaps one of the only things, ironically, he and his young grandson agreed on: even Gary wasn’t fond of her, and she desperately wanted to have him trust her. 

 

Let her have the last word, let her think whatever she wanted. Samuel had nothing to hide. He was an old man trying to raise a rowdy boy - he fed him, clothed him, and perhaps even spoiled him. What the hell did he have to hide?

 

The white noise of rain drumming on the roof overhead deepened - the road home would be absolutely miserable. Parenting in one’s sixties was so very tiresome…

 

He found his grandson sitting in the breakroom with another officer and a K-9 unit. For the brief second before Gary noticed him in the doorway, Samuel felt some of his hard resolve soften. The boy’s face was red and puffy, partly from his fall and the rest from crying off and on. It was very hard to look at the injuries he had. Regardless of his irritation over the late night call that had him driving all the way into town to collect him, it hurt to see his own flesh and blood in such shape. Even the look in his eyes when he finally spotted the old man was haunted. ‘Seen a ghost’ is what Samuel’s father would’ve said, eons ago, ‘’Bout turned his hair white.’ For a moment, it even looked like Gary was seeing it again right there. His hand clenched briefly in the fur on the back of the dog’s neck (as a testament to its training, the animal didn’t react to it at all).

 

Then the boy was hurtling towards him - the impact he made with Samuel’s body made a good portion of the wind in his lungs vanish. It took him a moment to process it all. The last time Gary had hugged him like this had been when...he couldn’t even recall. Some time when the child had been little more than a toddler, surely. Realizing that he’d had yet to react beyond dumb shock, he finally reached up and placed a hand on the boy’s trembling shoulder.

 

...Christ, he was  _ crying _ .

 

Disturbed, Samuel could only motion for the officer to leave. To his relief, the man nodded - with one sharp click of the fingers, the dog was up on all fours and followed its human partner out of the room. Samuel waited before gingerly easing his way inside and shutting the door. 

 

“I wanna go home.” It was spoken firmly, without a shudder, but Gary’s tone petered off at the end and betrayed his weakness. “Can we go?”

 

The man wet his lips, placing his other hand on the other shoulder. “We will,” He promised, softly, before gently pushing Gary back a good foot or two. He didn’t miss how the boy hurriedly wiped at his eyes and snuffled into his sleeve. He’d been given spare clothes by the police that had taken him in; the state police emblem was stitched into the left side of the breast and the shirt itself was big enough for the boy to swim in. The sweats were worse, somehow: the drawstring had to have been pulled as tight as it would go. He looked like a four-year-old playing dress up. It was only adding to how pitiful he looked. “We will.” Samuel repeated, “But we need to talk.”

 

Gary immediately started to babble, a torrent of words rushing out of his mouth. “Gramps, there was this thing-- it chased me down the main street, it was  _ huge _ and it knocked over a whole street light--”

 

“Gary.” But there was no stopping him.

 

“--ran all the way up the bridge, it had these big eyes that glowed’n it was gross--”

 

“Gary.”

 

“--nearly got me, but I rode my board on the way down but I think my laces got caught--”

 

“Gary!”

 

The boy stuttered into silence, bewildered and heaving for breath. Even speaking about it again seemed to be stirring him up. Samuel shook him a little. “Enough about this monster.” He sternly ordered, “What in the world were you doing out so late?”

 

“I--...huh?” Gary’s eyes jittered a little. He was clearly caught unawares by the question.

 

“Your curfew was eight o’clock. You were supposed to be home almost three hours ago. What were you doing out so late?”

 

Gary stared at him. Samuel tried to ignore the stung look on his face.

 

“We could have avoided this whole thing if you’d done as you were told and came home when we agreed on.” He powered on instead. “Instead - here we are. Again. At the police station.”

 

“Gramps--” The boy began, his voice squeaky in a way that sent spines into the old man’s chest.

 

He shook his head. “You should have been home. You promised me you would be. If you had been, you would’ve gotten home before the rain and you probably wouldn’t have taken this awful spill. Being up late can cause all sorts of stress-related phenomenon, like auditory and visual hallucinations--”

 

“What--? Gramps, I  _ saw _ that thing..!” Indignant rage was starting to mix into the boy’s expression. “I  _ did _ ! I heard it! It even breathed on me!”

 

They were going to cause a scene, Samuel could feel it coming. He regretted not leaving this confrontation until they’d gotten home. “I’m sure you think you did-” He began, and Gary promptly hit the roof.

 

The boy wrenched away from him, angry tears brewing in his eyes and a ruddy red color jumping to his cheeks. “You don’t believe me?! That thing nearly got me! I’m telling the truth-- you ALWAYS tell me to tell the truth!”

 

“And do you?” Samuel snapped. It was a poor decision, but one he couldn’t take back. He was exhausted, annoyed, and not in the mood to hear a ten-year-old child defend his crazy imagination. “Monsters, Gary?  _ A monster? _ For God’s sake, you aren’t little anymore! This is complete nonsense and you’ve only managed to completely embarrass yourself-- these aren’t your friends, these are uniformed officers!”

 

“I’m not making it up, there  _ was _ something there!” Gary insisted. His hands were curled into tight fists at his sides.

 

Samuel threw up his hands. “And again, I’m sure you  _ believed _ there was!” He groaned, “If you’d done  _ as I’d asked _ \--”

 

“Why don’t you care?! That thing’s still out there!”

 

“Interrupt me once more, Garrison - I have had just about enough with this entire thing.” The warning came harsh, swift, and cold. He forced himself to look his grandson in the face despite the massive amounts of betrayal written there. “There was no monster. It is far later than you were supposed to be out, and your mind needed rest. It played some sort of trick on you-- SHH! It played a trick on you in the dark. And it would not have happened if you had just. Been. Home. On. Time.” Each of the last four words were emphasized with a sharp clap of his palms coming together. Gary only flinched the first time. “I sincerely hope that you managed to get your homework done before you got involved in whatever game you and your friends were playing.”

 

There was no answer that Samuel took to mean that he hadn’t. He shook his head, reaching for the door handle. Wordlessly, he exited the room and heard the boy following behind him. No one stopped them - Sam figured anyone eavesdropping had long since moved along to avoid being caught. More fuel for whatever idiotic fire Officer Jennifer had burning, he was sure. 

 

The woman seated at the front desk had Gary’s belongings all piled up and waiting when the pair came by. Even his damp clothes had been run quickly through the drier to save the family some hassle while taking them home. As Gary reached out for the stack, though, Samuel laid a hand on the top of it firmly. “Hold his skateboard, please.”

 

Gary’s response was immediate panic. “No, Gramps--!”

 

“You’ll get it back when I’m ready to have it given back to you.” The old man flatly explained. He caught the guilty look on the receptionist’s face as she shifted part of the pile aside, taking the skateboard and placing it under the counter. It was utterly filthy - apparently it had gone off into the marsh a ways when the boy had fallen - and he was secretly relieved to not have to place it in the back of his car. “Thank you. Tell Looker I’m sorry about all of this.”

 

Gary continued to make weak noises akin to a creaky door being jostled by a breeze as the lady murmured she would pass along the message. Placing a hand to the boy’s shoulder, he steered him forcefully away and out to the front door. His umbrella was right where he’d left it, and he continued to ignore his grandson’s protests while opening it back up.

 

The rain was hammering down when they exited. A tug on the sleeve of his jacket made Samuel grunt, glaring down at the smaller male. “No.” He growled out, and watched the realization sink into Gary’s face. “I should’ve started using that word long before now. Things are going to change, I hope you realize.”

 

Despite the cold between them, Gary didn’t stray very far on the way to the blazer parked in the lot. He was quick to scramble into the passenger seat, by that point shivering, and shut it with a snap behind him. Sam hurried to the other door and hastily shut his umbrella. It ended up behind his seat, along with a fair amount of water before he could shut the door. So much for keeping the car clean.

 

The ride home was spent in relative silence. He’d thought that his grandson was sulking, for the first ten minutes, but a cursory glance over showed that the boy was watching the scenery like a hawk. He looked nervous...indicative of someone who had been indeed chased by something. Samuel’s wizened hands gripped the steering wheel tightly before one of them reached out as if to take one of the boy’s own. Instead, he settled for inching the dial for the heat up just a smidgen.

 

“...You’re going to the dentist first thing tomorrow. Get that chip fixed.” It was a feeble attempt to start conversation. Naturally, it fell flat. Licking his lips, he tried again. “Jeff looked you over?”

 

“Mm.” Not the most articulated response, but it was something.

 

They were taking the long road home. The downed street lamp had shut down the base of Reedy Point, and so they had to drive out by the refinery and go over the next bridge. That was probably for the best anyway: the road would be longer, but rarely had he ever seen it flood. “Jeff certainly knows his stuff.” Samuel murmured, sliding to a soft stop at a red light. To the right, the Valero plant lit up the night with its hundreds of yellow lights; plumes of steam belched into the air. It smelled putrid, but kept a good majority of the surrounding area employed. “He examined your head, I’m sure. Jenny told me you don’t have a concussion.”

 

“I’m not crazy, Gramps.” Gary snapped. He didn’t take his eyes off the window at all. “But thanks anyway.”

 

“Now isn’t the time to cop an attitude.”

 

“I just nearly died, my face hurts, I’m cold, you don’t believe me  _ and  _ you took my board. When’s a good time?”

 

Christ. The boy’s father had  _ never _ been this sassy. With each new generation, it seemed that the subject of ‘respect’ was being lost at a steadily hastening pace. 

 

The light finally turned green. Samuel steeled himself. “Maybe you can find the time while you’re grounded.” He bit out between gritted teeth, waiting for the explosion to come.

 

It didn’t. Gary was dead silent.

 

Samuel gave up then, resigned to driving home in silence. He tried to tell himself that it was good for his concentration - deer were plentiful when it rained, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone had struck one driving home at night. It was just too unusual to not have the boy in the passenger seat protesting and yelling back at him. It was even a bit unnerving.

 

He still hadn’t said a thing when they pulled up in the driveway at home, wouldn’t even as he waited at the door inside the garage to be let in. On the other side, excited barks and faint scratching could be heard. “That’s enough, Eve!” The old man had to call out, unlocking and pushing open the door. There was a scramble as the German Shepherd on the other side tried to get to both Oaks, pushing its snout to first Samuel’s hands, then Gary’s. It followed close on the boy’s heels as he led her to the back door, only to balk at the idea that it might have to go outside in the rain to do its business. A gentle pat against its backside had it trotting reluctantly out onto the deck, and the sliding door slid back. Samuel waited, but there was still nothing. 

 

There was nothing as he went to fill a bag of ice and wrap it in a towel for his grandson to put to his swollen face. Nothing as the dog trotted in and shook off right next to the boy. Nothing as both boy and dog traipsed up the stairs. Samuel was left alone in the first floor with his thoughts, listening absently as Gary walked around his bedroom above. He caught himself staring out of the window in the kitchen, out at the abandoned field behind his -  _ their _ home. 

 

He wasn’t sure what he expected to see: the field was, of course, completely dark beyond the glass. 

 

Though his fingers itched, he refrained from lighting a cigarette until he’d gone up the stairs himself to check on his grandson. The boy was already dressed for bed and tucked into his sheets. The bedside light was still on...and the German Shepherd, with its muddy paws, was tucked under his chin.

 

The old man heaved a sigh and sternly called to the animal. “Eve…” The dog’s ears perked up, it whined, but didn’t leave the bed. Its tail even thumped against the mattress. 

 

“I want her here.” Gary finally mumbled from somewhere in the ruff of the dog’s neck.

 

“She’s absolutely  _ filthy _ . Out of the question.”

 

And then Gary said something Samuel’d never heard him say before, with such clear conviction that he scarcely was able to believe it wasn’t truth.

 

“I hate you.”

 

What...was one even supposed to say to that? How did someone respond to their child ( _ grandchild _ ) saying something so hurtful? Like the boy’d  _ meant _ those words, even. For a few moments, the old man stood in the doorway rocked to his core - it felt like an out-of-body experience. 

 

He was ultimately a coward - he left the room without a word, silently closing the door behind him and wandering down the stairs.

 

There was an easy chair in the corner of the sitting room with a standing lamp perched over the back like a metal bird and a side cabinet that housed his vices. On the other side was a window, and he opened this to let in the air as well as to blow the smoke from his cigarette out of the house once it was lit. In one hand, smoke. In the other, bourbon. Vices he had indulged in all too often once his son had left home for good years ago. Now they were rarities. He didn’t dare do either around his grandson. He didn’t trust himself. 

 

“Hate me indeed.” He tried to bitterly joke, but swallowed thickly at the end. His eyes stared blankly out of the window, listening to the rain and watching a few drops of water hit the screen and splatter through into the house. Samuel took care of Gary. He had to-- no, he wanted to.  _ Needed  _ to.

 

Beside the ashtray on his special cabinet was a small photograph in a silver frame. A wedding photograph of a beautiful blond woman and a man with auburn-hair.

 

Samuel stared at them for a few minutes before he realized that he was crying. He pressed the heel of one old hand to his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. Even years later, it hurt to look at them. It hurt even worse, knowing what their son had just said to him moments ago.

 

“I’m failing you.”

 

No one heard him. No one but the ghosts that haunted the two Oaks - the photograph wasn’t able to speak back to him. 

 

At the end of the night, a drowsy Dr. Oak pried himself from his easy chair and trudged up the stairs to his own room. In the dark, lying in his own bed, he let his mind wander to the boy’s story and found himself wondering on the validity of it...or whether it was worth it to chastise him over it. The idea of a monster was absurd, of course, but Gary seemed so convinced and the look on his face…

 

He promised himself that he would make it up to the boy in the morning. Sleep came, and was thankfully dreamless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I consider 'Where The Dark Goes' to be one of my favorite universes to work on and look forward to adding more to it in the future.


	5. Where The Dark Goes - 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Where The Dark Goes' is a Stranger Things inspired story where Ash and Co. deal with a strange creature seemingly from another dimension, set in Delaware in the early 90s.
> 
> This story is set in Delaware, USA, in the early 90s. There is a bit of gore in the beginning. Characters are all their canon ages.

**November 13th, 1992 - Delaware City, Delaware**

 

In a small ranch house, an alarm clock rang. Soon after, a voice called through the dark: “Honey! Time to get up! You’ll miss the bus again!”

 

Ash Ketchum opened his eyes, and the world was much less darker than he’d expected it to be. Dawn light shone in through his windows and painted his bedroom in a foggy yellow-orange light. Bleary-eyed, the boy reached out from under his comforter to smack at the analog clock on his desk. The first slap of his palm hit nothing but wood and the edge of a pencil - he knew this because said pencil shot out from under his fingers and went ricocheting off the door. The second time was the charm; silence followed it. Like a lazy python, his arm slowly retracted back under the covers; he wormed his chin down further, closing his eyes.

 

There was a click as his door knob turned, followed by brisk footsteps approaching along the carpet to his bed. “Ash…” His mother’s exasperated voice cut through his sleepy mind again - one of her hands gently shook his shoulder. “Up and at’em. There’s no point in having a clock in here if I just have to come in and get you up every morning.” 

 

“M’up, mom…” Ash yawned widely, finally opening his eyes once again. “‘M goin’.” When his mother didn’t move, the boy reluctantly threw the covers off of his body and stretched. Only this seemed to satisfy the woman. She threw a warning at him (“Don’t fiddle-faddle around, please!”) before briskly taking her leave. The moment she left, Ash sank bonelessly back into his mattress. School happened far too early in the morning.

 

His mother was on the phone when he finally tromped down the hallway, her voice hushed and concerned. It gave him pause. The few times he’d heard his mother speak that way were times when there was trouble - the time one of the old ladies down the road fell and broke her hip, times when his grades  _ really _ stunk, things of that nature. He stopped moving and strained to hear her, but she hurriedly said her good-byes and hung up. “I know you’re out there, honey. You know better.”

 

Damn. He came around the corner into the kitchen reluctantly, straightening the bill of his ball cap. Even before he sat at the table, his mother plucked it from his head. “Not at the table, sweetheart…” 

 

“Moommmm…”

 

“No hats at the table.” The woman sternly replied. She looped the band at the back around the top of his chair before running her hand through his unruly hair. “I wish you would comb this, it always looks so messy.” 

 

“Mom…!” Ash reached up to move her hand away, pouting as she chuckled softly. She still relented, however, moving away to bring his breakfast to the table. “Who was callin’ so early?”

 

The brunette at the counter sighed deeply. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear before returning to the table - Ash’s plate in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. She’d never been one for coffee, and in fact they didn’t own any sort of coffee machine.  _ “The caffeine isn’t very good for you.” _ Was her explanation, though her son knew for a fact that there was still a good amount of caffeine in her tea blends. She sipped from her mug quietly, as if debating on what to say, and Ash let her have her moment while digging into the eggs she’d made for him.

 

“...Your friend Gary,” Her voice made Ash look back to her from his plate at once, “he got himself hurt last night on his way home.”

 

At once, Ash’s mind raced. “What…?! What happened?!”

 

Shushing him, his mother shook her head. “He was riding that silly skateboard down the bridge last night and fell.” Her tone implied an ‘I told him so!’ was in order, but she was too polite to say it. “He’s going to be late for school this morning - he has to go to the dentist.”

 

“Whoa, ‘eally? ‘E bro’ hif teef?”

 

“Swallow your food, Ash, for goodness sake…” Ash obeyed, muttering a soft ‘sorry’ as she stared - exasperated - at him. “He chipped one of them, it looks like. He’ll be a little banged up when you see him again.”

 

Wincing, Ash returned to his breakfast and his mother to her tea. He knew there was some sort of safety lecture coming: his mother  _ always _ had to talk with him about these sorts of things right after they happened, even if he wasn’t involved in them. Perhaps if he took a slower time with his food, he’d end up having to dart away once he was finished to the bus and skip her talk.

 

He wasn’t so lucky. “Honey…”

 

Ash groaned.

 

Surprisingly, his mother didn’t chastise him for it. Instead, she hesitated, brows furrowing. “...Gary’s grandpa mentioned that Gary might have been chased by some of the other kids. Do you know anything about that…? Are kids at school bothering you all?”

 

That was news. “They chased him?” He questioned, reaching for his glass of orange juice.

 

“That’s what his grandpa thinks, yes. ARE there kids at school picking on you and your friends, honey?”

 

Ash thought that over. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he and his friends got treated a bit less nicely by most of the other kids. There were various reasons for it - Misty for hanging out with only boys, Ash for being poor, Brock for his appearance. His brows drew together. The only one of them that perhaps  _ didn’t _ get picked on was Gary Oak. Gary’s family was well off, after all, and he always had some of the latest stuff to come out. The other kids liked him...even if he  _ was _ a bit of an asshole. Gary didn’t let people pick on him, either. He didn’t just wear shit-kicker boots for show. “Um…not on Gary. I dunno anybody who’d go chasin’ him around like that.” And, after a moment, he added: “Did they beat him up?”

 

“No, no. He fell.”

 

“W’ll…” He swallowed a mouthful of juice, pushing his plate away lightly, “...Why would they chase him and just not do anythin’? That’s kinda weird. I don’t want him to get beat up or anythin’, but…”

 

His mother was quiet. When Ash looked at her again, he saw she was staring bemusedly into her coffee mug. “I…” She shook her head, “I’m sure they got scared when he fell and hurt himself, honey. They probably didn’t want to hurt him.”

 

Ash disagreed: he was friends with the guy, and  _ he _ had a lot of moments where he wanted to punch the living daylights out of Gary. He didn’t say that, though. Some things were just not meant to be said around one’s mother. 

 

The familiar rumble of the school bus turning down his street made Ash jump out of his chair, grabbing for his ball cap. His mother had to thrust his backpack into his hands so he wouldn’t forget it - “You’ll remember your hat, but not your bag…!” - and he was hurrying out the front door with the woman calling after him to have a good day. He barely made it to the sidewalk when the bus rolled up; Ash turned briefly to his mother, waved, and darted up the stairs into the bus.

 

Delia Ketchum watched her boy disappear, smiling tiredly. Only when the bus was all the way down the street did she drop her smile and hurry back to the telephone.

 

What she did was of no importance to her son the moment the bus rumbled away. He quickly took up a seat next to Brock, shoving weakly at his shoulder. The headphones fell off of his friend’s ears. “Dude--!”

 

“Gary got  _ fucked up _ .”

 

“What?” The music continued to blare from Brock’s headphones, now forgotten around his neck. A couple of other kids leaned over their seats. “What do you mean…?”

 

“I mean he got creamed.” Ash smacked his palms together for effect; a girl peering over the back of his seat jumped. “His grandpa called my mom this morning. She said he’s at the dentist’s office - I bet he got his teeth knocked out!”

 

There were a few low whistles and several ‘oh man!’s from those listening in. Brock winced. “Gross. What happened?”

 

Ash grinned smugly. He leaned back in his seat with his arms folded over his chest. “Mom said he went over Reedy Point bridge and fell on the way down, she said somebody was  _ chasing him _ .” He relished in the whispers that followed; who would do that? Wasn’t me, wasn’t me! A couple kids worried over them being chased down, too. 

 

Rumors over who might’ve had it out for Gary Oak flooded out of the bus the moment it stopped at the school doors. Plenty of kids went racing off to tell their friends all about the news. Brock and Ash talked in hushed tones as they made their way up the stairs, Ash hands waving around animatedly as they discussed how badly their friend had hurt himself. 

 

One moment, Ash was headed up. The next, tumbling down the stairs to land on his tailbone at the bottom.

 

“Watch it, twerp!”

 

Stars swam before his eyes, and his throat closed up right away. His eyes watered, and he struggled not to cry. Brock grabbed at one of his arms and lightly shook him soon after. “Hey-- you okay?” And Ash tried to answer him, but didn’t trust himself not to start bawling. He glared up from under the brim of his hat as two sets of feet slowly walked down the stairs towards them. At his side, Brock bristled. “Lay off!”

 

“Shut up.” Ash tilted his head back finally, craning his neck to look up at the two older kids looming over him. The girl sneered at him, tossing long red hair over her shoulder. “Oh no, is the twerp gonna  _ cry _ ? You better kiss it better for him, Harrison, he looks like he’s gonna lose it!” Beside her, her friend snorted to himself.

 

“Fuh--” He choked - falling on one’s ass like that was probably the worst sort of pain. “Fuck you, Jessie.”

 

“F-f-f-f-f-fuck you, J-j-j-j-j-j-jessie!” She cawwed back at him, throwing her head back and howling.

 

The boy beside her crouched down, shit-eating grin plastered onto his face as Ash jerked slightly back from him. “Heard your little pal got the shit kicked out of him.” He drawled, fiddling with a piece of dyed-purple hair. “Y’know what else I heard? I heard the cops picked him up and he was cryin’ like a little bitch. You gonna cry if we kick your teeth in, too, Ketchup?”

 

Ash bared his teeth - the boy’s smirk faded slightly, his eyes narrowing and his hands curling into fists. The shrill ring of the warning bell rang out loud over the yard, then, and Jessie lightly kicked at her friend with a scoff. “Let’s go, James. See you twerps later.” 

 

They left, snickering between each other. A flood of children soon obscured their retreating forms from view. A hand at his elbow jolted Ash into action; Brock gently helped him back to his feet, lightly patting at his shoulder once he was steady again. “You okay?”

 

“‘M fine.” Ash grumbled, swiping under his nose with one of his hands. “She’s such a bitch…”

 

“Who is?” Both boys jerked their heads up as another red-headed girl joined them. To their relief, it was only Misty. She seemed confused. “What happened to  _ you _ ?”

 

“Jessie.” He and Brock mumbled at the same time. “James, too, but he didn’t really do anything.” Ash added, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 

Misty rolled her eyes, blowing a large bubble with a wad of gum before letting it pop. “That’s typical. James’ll never hit anybody, you know Jessie just keeps him around for show. What’d they do?”

 

“Nothin’. Hey, listen up…”

 

They spent the next minute of wandering the halls talking amidst themselves about what had happened to the fourth member of their group the night prior. Misty seemed to think Gary had it coming to him, which neither boy disagreed with. They stood around her locker wondering aloud about who might’ve done it (“It’s them, it has to be!” Ash insisted, suggesting Jessie and James) before the last bell rang and they parted ways. 

 

Talk of what might’ve happened to Gary Oak petered out until halfway through the day - just after lunch, Ash found the boy himself heading from the front office towards his next class. He nearly didn’t recognize his friend; the purple and blue bruising on Gary’s face distorted his appearance badly. Looking sullen, Gary nearly passed him before Ash found his voice and called out to him. Even then, Gary kept going. Ash had to physically hurry after him and grasp his arm - Gary tried to swat him away. “Hey--!”

 

“What?” The auburn-haired boy’s voice was flat, moody. He gave Ash a hard look. Part of his bottom lip had been stitched up, old blood crusted up around the wound and ringing each nostril of his nose. The bruising was worse around his eyes. When Ash’s words fled him in the face of what he was seeing - because, really, Gary looked  _ a ton _ worse than he’d imagined he would - Gary shoved at him. “What?! Quit staring!”

 

“Sorry! You just look-- you look like you got murdered.” 

 

Scoffing, Gary stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Whatever. Still better than  _ your _ pug-fugly face, Ashy-Boy. Can I go now, or do you wanna kiss it better or something?”

 

“Gross. Chill out. Did you really get your teeth knocked out?”

 

Gary’s brows furrowed. He shook his head slightly. “Who told you THAT? No. I just chipped one-- see?” He bared his teeth; sure enough, one was slightly discolored halfway down. The other half was pearly white and obviously new. Ash let out a ‘whoa’ of appreciation and admiration. “Didn’t hurt at all: they stuck a needle in my gums, it was way weird.”

 

That  _ sounded  _ weird. He wasn’t sure he believed it having been painless, but trying to argue with Gary about it wouldn’t end well. He let it go and pressed onto what he was actually curious about. “So what happened? Mom said your grandpa said someone was chasing you-- was it Jessie? She and James knew about the cops picking you up.”

 

“What--? No way, those two? Nah. I can’t believe you actually think they can  _ touch _ me.”

 

Well, the huge amounts of smug meant Gary was at least feeling all right. Ash rolled his eyes, shouldering into the other boy’s arm as he began to walk. Gary casually fell into step beside him. “Yeah, yeah, yeah...we all know you’re the biggest bad ass this side of Delaware.”

 

“You know it.”

 

“That’s not a big accomplishment - it’s  _ Delaware _ .”

 

“Whatever. Look, you wanna know what happened?” Ash paused, peering over at Gary curiously. Something in his friend’s tone had changed. Gary was still smirking, but it had begun to shrink into something a bit less light-hearted. He sounded almost...serious. Was he? 

 

After a moment, Ash shook himself out of his daze and nodded furiously. “Yeah, duh! So?”

 

But Gary shook his head, lowering his voice. “Not here. My house. If anyone asks, I told you that it was too dark to see who it was, okay?-- and that I wasn’t crying, I was totally cool.”

 

He laughed as Ash groaned in exasperation. “You’re so dumb, Gary.”

 

“Smell ya later, Ash.” Was the response. The bell signalling class rang out, and Gary quickly ducked out to get to his classroom. Ash watched him go, feeling relieved to see his friend back to the way he’d been the day before. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but thinking back on it, he felt that Gary acting like...well... _ Gary _ was about where he should’ve laid his guesses.

 

In truth, he didn’t really think about their brief moment of seriousness until far later in the day. It was long after he left, standing on the pegs on the back of Brock’s bike as the boy pedaled across the bridge, that he gave it any sort of thought. Up ahead, Misty skirted the caution tape stretched around the area where the streetlight had fallen the night before. He recalled one of the kids that lived down the road beside the river saying that it had fallen during the storm. The fallen light was long gone, hauled away by road crews early in the morning, but the tape remained blocking off access to Reedy Point Bridge. On the other side, he was told that cars were being turned away and forced to traverse out to Rt 13 to go around.

 

It was when the trio reached the foot of the bridge on the other side, surrounded by marshes, that they gave pause.

 

“So...it was right here, right?” Misty shifted uneasily on her skates, allowing them to roll back and forth alternatively as they stood around behind the barricade. On instinct, they all three shifted their gazes around on the asphalt. The rain had obviously washed away any blood Gary might have spilled during his fall; it was stupid to look for it, and yet Ash couldn’t help himself. There didn’t appear to be any signs that their friend had come crashing down to Earth there. Misty shuddered, rubbing at her arms. “Do you guys feel creeped out at all, or is it just me?”

 

Brock leaned his weight to one side, and Ash leaned slightly to the other so that the bike wouldn’t topple over. “Not really. It doesn’t look any different. Why? You think whoever ran him down is still hanging out here?”

 

“Well, I  _ wasn’t _ , but NOW I am.” The girl snapped. Brock shrugged apologetically.

 

As they began to leave, Ash’s thoughts were somewhere else. It was by pure coincidence that he happened to see something off to his right, and he gripped tightly onto Brock’s shoulders. “Wait-! Hold up!”

 

The bike tires squealed a little on the damp roadway. “What…?” But Ash didn’t answer him. The boy adjusted his cap as he climbed off the pegs, tromping over to a patch of loose gravel and grit on the side of the road. “Ash, come on, that’s creepy. What’d you find?”

 

The bright green and yellow enamel was masked by filth, courtesy of the rain the night prior, but as Ash grew closer and knelt down he knew exactly what it was. He plucked the pendant from the ground. The leather strap that had once held it around Gary’s neck was gone - blown or swept away by the storm or carried off by local wildlife. Either way, the charm was what mattered. Wordlessly, he turned and held it out to his approaching friends.

 

Misty offered a soft ‘oh’, watching the charm as if it might bite her. Brock looked equally grim. “So it  _ did _ happen here.”

 

Ash nodded, turning the pendant over in his fingers. Only when the enamel was placed against his palm could he feel the scratches in the material. The bezel holding it together was also scraped, the metal pitted by a hard smack against the cruel pavement. There was no blood on it; it wouldn’t have made sense for there to be, even on a dry night, since Gary typically wore the necklace with the charm sitting just below his sternum and nowhere near his face. Still, it felt heavy with the weight of what had happened the night before. Ash found that he didn’t like holding it at all. Misty’s prior words about the area feeling off sank in then - it was a feeling seeped deep into the cheap necklace charm in his hand.

 

“Let’s get over there.” He finally mumbled, stuffing the charm into his pants pocket. He knew better than to leave things in the pockets of his windbreaker, considering the amount of items that had plain fallen out in the past. It was a silly necklace, probably something Gary didn’t care about losing, but Ash felt an eerily strong urge to return it anyway. “His bus is gonna be way late...maybe we can talk to his grandpa.”

 

They all three knew that the old man wouldn’t be home. He rarely was: Gary typically unlocked the front door himself to let them all inside, and when they left he was still all alone. It was a stupid excuse...but none of them wanted to stay there another minute, even in broad daylight.

 

\---

 

During the hours when the sun graced the Earth of Delaware with its presence, the marshes along Rt. 9 were generally rather pleasant to look at. They stretched on for miles in some areas, and the area at the southern side of Reedy Point Bridge was no exception. It teemed with life - both people and creature alike frequented the area. At the moment, the cars that trundled along from Port Penn to Delaware City and back were absent due to the closure of the bridge, but plenty of animals that made their homes in the wet muck and tall reeds had no excuse to be hiding away.

 

Not a single one was to be seen. The red-winged black birds that frequently perched on the cattails lining the banks, the crimson flecks of feathers on their wings typically a dead giveaway to their presence, were absent. There were no wayward snapping turtles creeping menacingly along the shoulder of the road. No muskrats played in the dirty saline water. It could be the chill in the air that moved in after the storm the night before had passed. The children didn’t take much notice at first, but it was hard not to notice the lack of turkey buzzards surrounding the sky above what appeared to be some sort of road kill. There didn’t seem to be any buzzards in the sky at all, not as far as the eye could see...and that was rare.

 

Life didn’t really come back into the scenery until they were at the threshold of Port Penn, when a squirrel appeared at the side of the road near the intersection. The trio paused, peering around the pink house on their left for traffic before moving on - the rodent twitched its tail several times, then was gone when Ash turned back to look. From then on, he could hear the birds roosting in the old trees hanging overhead. It put him at ease. 

 

Port Penn was perhaps one of the smallest towns in the county, boasting two major roads and a handful of houses. If Delaware City was a snooze fest, Port Penn was snooze  _ central _ . It was on the right branch of the intersection that the Oaks lived, past a small one-room schoolhouse that would one day become a museum and close to a house with remnants of its drive-in movie days posted right out front. Gary often said that, aside from the fire siren going off at all hours of the day and night, there was absolutely nothing of interest to be found. Truthfully, Ash was grateful for it on that particular day. He couldn’t shake the eerie feeling he’d felt back out in the marshes, and judging by the silence from his friends the feeling was well shared amongst them all.

 

As they approached the front door, a furry face appeared at the window beside it. The dog began to bark immediately, yet no one inside seemed to have been alerted to visitors. “Guess he’s not home yet.” Ash mumbled. It was the first any of them had spoken since being at Reedy Point Bridge. He settled down on the top step of the concrete stairs, watching idly as Brock put the kickstand down on his bike. Misty dropped down a stair lower so she could untie her skates. Conversation failed them, and Ash was becoming increasingly concerned.

 

They were all still awkwardly waiting in silence when the familiar rumble and grumble of a school bus reached their ears. It wasn’t much longer when the bus appeared, rolling to a stop at the driveway and opening up the doors to let off its one passenger. Ash was quick to wave - Gary simply held up a finger they all rolled their eyes at. “Wow, so did you lose the part of your brain that tells you to be nice to your friends?” 

 

In response, the boy reached out and popped the bubble Misty was forming with her gum, causing her to sputter angrily as he moved past her to his front door. As she made to start in on him again, he flapped a hand at her. “Shut up, okay…! My head hurts.” She held up her hands near her eyes, pouting out her lip as she rubbed imaginary tears from her cheeks. Gary ignored her and pushed open the door. There was a squawk as his eager dog set upon him and strained to pass him in order to greet the other children. “Eve--! No, get back ya friggin’ dummy-- Would you assholes get in here before she gets out?! I don’t wanna go chasing her around town again,  _ thanks _ .”

 

“Wasn’t she a police dog? They’re supposed to be so well behaved.” Misty couldn’t help but slyly comment. Her hand grazed the top of the animal’s skull anyway, and Eve snapped to attention in order to run her long and slimy tongue over the girl’s fingers. The red-head made a face and shook them, moving past Gary with a muffled ‘gross’.

 

Ash was quick to follow her, and Brock right after. The door closed with a sharp snap behind them; Eve was loose in that moment, her long snout pressing against each child’s hands and legs in turn while her tail fanned the air behind her. Unable to help himself, Ash cracked a grin before dropping to his knees. The dog went right to him. “Hi girl! Hi--ackpt--! Gross, no--!”

 

“You should know better.” Came Gary’s voice from somewhere above him - Ash couldn’t tell exactly where he was, too preoccupied with trying to force the dog’s mouth away from his face. The floor vibrated slightly as someone moved past him. There was a click of someone’s fingers, and Eve finally backed away. “ _ Down _ , Eve. Outside.”

 

Stumbling to his feet, Ash slowly meandered after his companions. They knew where Gary’s room was, but none of them ever felt like gravitating away from him in his home. It was an old, sort of stuffy looking place. The few times Ash remembered visiting his grandparents found him in a home similarly decorated to this one. It was never directly said - by Gary or his grandfather - but they didn’t play in much of the majority of the house. Even the living room looked unused and uncomfortable to be in. No; generally, when they were there, they either stayed with Gary or they hung out in his bedroom. From the look of things, Gary did that with or without them around anyway.

 

There was at least a bit of breathing room in the kitchen and the dining room. They were two spaces that the old man couldn’t possibly force into being 100% his tastes. The sliding door there opened with a flick of the locking latch - Eve trotted out past Gary’s legs into the yard, her head down and sniffing out the various rabbits that’d probably grazed there earlier that day. “Watch her.” The boy ordered his friends in a grumble. Before any of them could retort, Gary stormed off into the kitchen. There was an exchanged look between the three of them before they settled awkwardly near the door to watch the dog roam outside.

 

It was calming, in a way. Ash’s yard was smaller, fenced in, and his neighbors were close by. He’d never been allowed to own any sort of animal though he’d begged and begged. He quite liked Eve, and watching her explore the boundary-less backyard was soothing. Stretched beyond the grass were rows and rows of since-harvested crops - all that was left were the dry stalks. Even further, requiring him to squint, was the forest. He was vaguely aware of the water running in the faucet just over the counter in the kitchen, or the teeny rattling that was unmistakably pills in a pill bottle. Still, as he watched, he felt a sense of the same unfamiliar unease creeping into his skin. Eve had stopped sniffing and was standing at the end of the yard with her tail up and her ears forward. She didn’t move for some time. Ash was on the cusp of opening the door when a hand shot past his shoulder and did it for him.

 

“EVE!” Gary bellowed. The dog didn’t stir. “God dammit…! Did she go, yet?”

 

Ash simply shook his head. His friend huffed, his fingers curling around the doorframe slightly. “She keeps doing that. She doesn’t run off, but she’s not going unless I stand out there with her. I dunno what she’s lookin’ at…EVE, LET’S GO!”

 

Finally, the dog turned and ran back to the porch with her tongue lolling out. She scampered past them quickly, pacing behind their legs. Gary gave a long-suffering groan before locking up the door again. “Fine.” He told her, pinching absently at her ears, “But you pee in the house again, no more bacon for breakfast.” Of course, she seemed unaware at all that she might face such consequences. After a moment, Gary gave in and gave her a few affectionate pats before turning to the others. “Come on. Up to my room.”

 

“About time! What were you doing, cooking dinner or something?”

 

The boy didn’t bother with snark. “Tylenol.” He murmured instead, and his friends quieted as he began to lead them back down the hallway to the stairs. 

 

Much like the rest of the downstairs, the upstairs hallway gave off the feeling of a typical old-person’s home and silently urged them all to keep quiet. The wood paneling was only decorated with the occasional silver framed old photograph and one ornate pendulum clock with shiny brass workings. It was a relief to walk into Gary’s bedroom and free themselves of the stifling nature of the rest of the house. Here, there was a normal kid’s room...or, perhaps as normal a kid’s room could be with the addition of pricier toys. There were all sorts of posters tacked to his walls and closet doors; Ash promptly tossed his backpack under one of some nondescript graffiti, and Misty’s joined it right after. Brock set his carefully down closer to the door, and Gary just set his on his computer chair before collapsing onto his bed with Eve bouncing up next to him.

 

Once they’d all gotten somewhat relaxed, there was silence. Gary seemed to be straining to will away whatever headache was mounting behind his eyelids, and no one felt like pushing his buttons right away.

 

Finally, Ash settled on the foot of the bed and dug around in his pocket. He nudged his friend’s shoulder to get his attention. As Gary finally opened his eyes and pushed himself up onto his elbows, Ash opened up his hand to show the pendant sitting in it. “We found it by the bridge.” 

 

That seemed to finally jerk a response out of Gary that wasn’t hostile. He appeared troubled, warily eyeing the pendant as if it might sting him. Eventually, he sat up and crossed his legs, taking the charm from Ash’s hand. “You didn’t have to bring it back.” But there was nothing nasty in his voice to suggest he was ungrateful. 

 

Misty settled next to Ash. She began to idly run her hands over Eve’s neck and back. “That place feels really weird, now.”

 

Opting to leave some room for the others to spread out, Brock leaned against Gary’s desk. “Yeah. It’s just super quiet without people driving through it, I guess.”

 

Gary shrugged. He didn’t seem quite ready to divulge whatever it was he’d urged them to come for.

 

It was then that Ash seemed to notice the absence of something rather familiar in the room. “Hey…” He shifted, peering this way and that in an attempt to locate the missing object - to no avail. “...Gary, where’s your skateboard?”

 

A bitter sneer spread along Gary’s face. He clenched his hand briefly around the charm. “Gramps told the cops to keep it for a while. Also, probably should’ve mentioned it, but you gotta leave before he gets back. I’m grounded.”

 

There was a chorus of whines and ‘seriously?’s; Gary waved his hands. “I know, okay, it’s dumb. Gramps is trying to teach me some kind of lesson.  _ Apparently _ this,” he motioned to his face, “is all my fault.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“No!” They jerked back from him in shock. Gary thrust his fist down against his mattress, scowling. “No it fucking  _ isn’t! _ He thinks it all happened cause I was late getting home or whatever-- it’s  _ not _ .” He swallowed, shaking his head. “It’s not.” He repeated, quietly.

 

There was quiet once more. At last, Brock gingerly spoke. “So...what happened?”

 

Eve whined softly; Gary put his hand on the back of her neck and dug his fingers into her fur. “...Listen. I’m not joking around, okay?” He began, looking up at them all.

 

“We seriously haven’t said you were...and we don’t even know what about yet!” Misty impatiently shot back. She threw her hands up before crossing her arms. “Can you just tell us already?”

 

“I  _ mean  _ it.” Gary’s voice stilled her, his eyes boring past her own with a level of seriousness she didn’t look like she expected. “Just-- don’t think I’m lying or something right off the bat. I’m not lying.”

 

His eyes darted slightly about the room, absently as he gathered his thoughts. His lips twitched a few times as if to speak.

 

“It was a monster.” When they didn’t offer any response, he carried on. “A... _ thing _ . It came out of the water from Pea Patch, and it chased me down the street. I swear to  _ God _ , on my  _ life _ . It knocked over that light pole and followed me over the bridge, right? And I was trying to run-- it floats, okay? Like its feet didn’t touch the ground and its eyes--” Gary broke off, his voice cracking and getting hoarse. “...They were like...like...I dunno. Like headlights. They glowed. And it screamed like...You ever heard a fox or a rabbit scream? Like that, but like--like fifty times weirder.”

 

Ash leaned back some, his back bumping the footboard at the end of the bed. “And it wasn’t a fox…?”

 

“No, no, it was fucking big--  _ huge _ !” Gary raised his hands up over his head. “Like a person, or a bear! I’ve never seen anything that looked like that. And it was right behind me the whole time. I got on my board to get away, down the bridge, and my shoelace got caught and I bailed--”

 

“Ha! Mom told you!”

 

Gary leered at Ash, mouth slightly open in disbelief. “...Really?”

 

Sensing he was perhaps one button press away from detonation, Ash tried to will down his smirk of triumph. Gary rolled his eyes and shoved at him. “So I guess you guys think I’m full of it too, right?”

 

“It’s a weird story, you have to admit.” Misty pointed out. Gary looked hurt by her words, and her voice stalled out as he stared at her. “...But I’ve never seen you like  _ this _ …”

 

Her eyes landed on Ash, who shook his head mutely. Of the four of them, Ash and Gary had known each other the longest. There had been a time when they’d been neighbors, before Gary had gone to live with his grandfather in Port Penn. He agreed with Misty - it had been a very long time since he’d seen Gary so shaken by something. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyeballing his friend. “I believe you.” He said, simply, and Gary relaxed.

 

The other two children peered back and forth between them before making up their own minds. “So is it still out there?” Brock asked quietly.

 

Gary shuddered. “I think so. I thought I saw it when the cops were taking me back to DC.”

 

“And we rode right through there…” Came Misty’s wary murmur. Suddenly, the atmosphere they’d felt while riding through the marshlands seemed far more sinister.

 

“Why did it chase you so far, d’you think? That’s a long way. It could’ve gone after anybody.”

 

Gary shrugged helplessly at Ash’s question, turning the medallion in his hand over and over. “I dunno, man. Maybe cause I was alone. All I know is if it weren’t for the cops, it would’ve gotten me.”

 

Nobody wanted to think about what getting ‘got’ would have meant for Gary. Ash reached out with his foot and lightly prodded his friend with the toe of his sneaker. “Now I wish you’d stayed with me’n mom...I’m sorry, Gary.”

 

“For what, asshole? It’s not YOUR fault.”

 

“What do we do?” When Brock spoke up, the others fell silent. He still didn’t seem all that convinced, but certainly willing to entertain the idea of caution. “I mean...we can’t just keep riding through there if something’s out there. And if your grandpa didn’t believe you, then we can’t just tell everyone.”

 

Ash knew they couldn’t. From the looks on his friends’ faces, they were thinking the same thing. As if they didn’t get picked on enough. People would think they were down-right looney. A bigger problem with trying to avoid the area was just the sheer inconvenience it would cause - Reedy Point Bridge was the shortest way to get from Port Penn to Delaware City, period. A lot of the older and somewhat forgotten canal-side towns had that sort of problem; there was no major highway connecting them outside of Route 9. Having Reedy Point blocked off meant taking the long way around past the Valero plant, a detour that would add half an hour onto a typical car ride. Biking, skateboarding and rollerblading would take far longer. At the very least, it would mean cutting Gary off for a while as neither he nor they would be able to hack the travel needed.

 

And that was if the monster stayed in one area.

 

“I guess…” Ash cleared his throat, finally. “I guess we just...gotta stick together. If we keep close when we’re moving, it won’t go after us...right?”

 

“You’re dumb. A predator will ambush a group to scare it into scattering.”

 

He gave Gary a scathing look that the boy returned with a sneer. “Well, what do YOU think, then, asshole?”

 

Gary opened his mouth, closed it, and stared at the charm still clutched in his fingers. 

 

“...I dunno...but...I think it’ll come back.” He said, at last. “If nobody’s gonna believe us, then I dunno what we’re gonna do. It’s gonna hurt somebody. I know it is.”

 

And as they stared at the pendant in his hand, an ominous sensation laid gently over them. Whether they truly believed him or not, the foreboding feeling seemed to suggest that he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Where The Dark Goes' is ongoing and I plan to update it sometime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates for this story may appear later.


End file.
